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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661986">Unholy Matrimony</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis'>iselsis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption with Dubious Consent, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fake Marriage, Forced Marriage, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jack and Janet Drake's A+ Parenting, Omega Tim Drake, Who doesn't actually die though, no beta we die like jason, not by Bruce</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:15:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>58,007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tim presents as an omega, his parents decide to get the only use they can out of him by marrying him off.<br/>To Bruce Wayne.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Tim Drake, Jason Todd &amp; Tim Drake, Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1311</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Gen Batfam ABO</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. An Unexpected Change</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, first fanfic on this site. I'll try to update every week. Just to clarify, this is NOT Tim/Bruce. It's a "marriage," not a marriage.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, first fanfic on this site. I'll try to update every week. Just to clarify, this is NOT Tim/Bruce. It's a "marriage," not a marriage.<br/>Edit: Now, with formatting (and a few minor line changes)! I'm new to AO3, so I had to go back in and edit that. Thank you, shirokokuro for the help!<br/>Second Edit: I went back and added in the italics. I didn't realize that the site had taken them out when I transferred the chapter from word.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Tim’s head spun as he closed the door behind him and dragged himself the remaining distance to his bed. It almost seemed like too much effort, since he had a perfectly hospitable pile of dirty laundry <em>right</em>… everywhere, and he would be perfectly comfortable on the floor.</p><p><em>Mom and Dad are coming in tomorrow, though,</em> he reminded himself. His parents, especially his mother, wouldn’t abide by him sleeping on the floor because he was too sick to get all the way to his perfectly serviceable bed. </p><p>He dropped face-first onto his mattress with a groan. Was it <em>really</em> worth the effort of turning his face? At least suffocating would put him out of his misery.</p><p>It had been a mistake not to come home immediately when he’d started to feel bad, but the Gotham night sky had been such a perfect aesthetic, and Tim had wanted to see if Robin was going to turn up and join Batman. He hadn’t for a few days, but Tim hadn’t seen him get injured, and normally Robin helped Batman every night during the summer. In the end, it had cost him a grueling walk to the bus station once he’d finally realized that he was seriously getting sick, and another grueling walk from the bus station to his house.</p><p>He did, eventually, roll onto his side and pull off his camera bag, which landed with a padded thud on the floor next to him, before drifting off to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Tim was snatched roughly from sleep and his bed by strong hands. The world spun in a fog of blurry shapes and the scent of angry alpha, and a haze of an unfamiliar sweet smell. The biggest blur in front of him shook him furiously.</p><p>“What the hell is this!”</p><p>Tim blinked a few times to clear his vision, stunned to find his father dangling him by the collar of his night photography hoody he’d fallen asleep in.</p><p>“A jacket?” Tim mumbled sleepily.</p><p>Jack Drake snarled in a rage and threw Tim to the floor. Tim landed hard, his fall cushioned unevenly by discarded clothes.</p><p>Tim inhaled sharply and willed himself to wake up faster. Usually, he knew what he’d done to make his parents hate him, but this time, he was too thrown off by exhaustion, and the pain in his gut, and that overpowering stench of honey that seemed to cling to him. In fact, everything smelled more strongly than normal. His father’s fury, his own fear, and the normally slight smell of beta disappointment that wafted in strong enough to alert him to the presence of Janet Drake in the doorway.</p><p>“I told you he was never going to be an alpha,” his mother snapped, not even looking at him. </p><p>Tim winced at the anger and dismissal in her voice, and his own confusion, because nothing made sense and he couldn’t understand what was going on or why they were mad, or why everything hurt. He just wanted to curl up in a small, dark place and hide. And what was that smell? </p><p>That sweet honey…</p><p>
  <em>Omega. </em>
</p><p>Where had that come from? Neither of his parents were omegas, so who-</p><p>No.</p><p>No, no, no, no, <em>no!</em> </p><p>It was <em>him.</em></p><p>Tim’s heart pounded, and he tried to stand up, but Jack kicked him in the ribs.</p><p>“Thirteen years, raising you, feeding you, educating you, wasted! You’re fucking useless!” Jack seized a fistful of Tim’s shirt and slammed him against the wall. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with an omega for an heir, you stupid bitch!”</p><p>“I-” Tim started. His eyes stung fiercely, but his parents would be even more furious if he started crying too. He was an<em> omega</em>?</p><p>Tim couldn’t be an omega. He’d heard the vitrious gossip and spite his parents had for omegas for years; how useless and pathetic they were, flighty whores ruled by their pendulum mood swings. Tim was pretty sure that he wasn’t those things, or maybe he was a bit useless, but he tried his best. The thought of being just an omega to his parents was terrifying. Omegas didn’t even have full <em>rights</em>.</p><p>“You-” Jack raised his fist and Tim flinched, hard, waiting for the blow.</p><p>Janet moved from her spot at the door with an air of utter contempt. “Jack, dear, don’t hurt him.”</p><p>Tim frowned, unable to reconcile her tone with her words. Janet Drake had never been a very maternal woman. She read him financial reports instead of bedtime stories, and had started teaching him how to manipulate his business rivals by the time he was five years old, but maybe, in her own way, she did care about him, and she just had a strange way of showing it.</p><p>His heart swelled in hope. If some kind of dormant maternal instincts had been awoken, seeing her pup in danger, she might save him before his dad beat him too much, even if he was a disappointment.</p><p>“He might be completely useless as an heir, but there are other uses for an omega in the business world, Jack.”</p><p>Tim’s hope withered and died with a pain worse than his father’s kick, and this time he couldn’t blink back the tears. “Mom?”</p><p>She locked eyes with him just long enough for her lip to curl in distaste.</p><p>Her eyes flicked to Jack and pointedly stayed there. “He’s worth less to us if you break him. Set him down.”</p><p>Jack growled unhappily, but he gave Tim a final shake before dropping his shirt. </p><p>Tim’s knees crumpled under his weight, and he collapsed in a barely controlled fall. Tears streamed down his face, no matter how hard he tried to stop. This was so <em>stupid</em>, why couldn’t he stop? He was acting just like the omegas that his parents hated so much, and his own body was betraying him, because it wouldn’t let him<em> stop crying</em> like a <em>baby</em> or an<em> omega.</em></p><p>“I’m sorry,” Tim whimpered.</p><p>“Don’t grovel,” Janet said, her voice even and  businesslike. “You might be an omega, but you’re still a Drake. Act like it.”</p><p>Tim swiped at his face with his sleeve and <em>didn’t</em> sniffle. He lowered his gaze so they couldn’t see his face. She was right; falling apart like this was a weakness, and Drakes weren’t weak.</p><p> “I’m sorry, mother. I didn’t mean to be-” </p><p>“What you meant doesn’t matter. Only what you are,” Janet interrupted. “You might be a lost cause as an heir, but there are still…possibilities. You can still redeem yourself.” </p><p>Tim slowly raised his head so that he could bare his neck in submission. If he just behaved well enough, then they’d eave on their next grand adventure and forget about him for the next six months. He just had to placate them for the rest of their visit. They might pull him out of school, but he could maybe enroll himself in an online school without them knowing. </p><p>“Anything, mother,” he whispered.</p><p>Jack glared at his wife, a question in his scowl. “What are you thinking, Jan?”</p><p>Janet raised her chin and smirked slightly. “I think that I’ve solved the problem we’ve been having with our…less <em>cooperative</em> business partner.”</p><p>Realization dawned on Jack’s face and settled into a vicious grin. “I see. How thoughtful of you.”</p><p>Dread curdled in Tim’s stomach. He wasn’t any use to them as an heir anymore. If they wanted him to deal with a business partner who was giving them trouble- Surely they cared more about him than that. They wouldn’t rent him out to solve their problems. </p><p>They wouldn’t.</p><p>They would.</p><p>He knew it, just like he knew that the sky was blue and Bruce Wayne had poor coping mechanisms. </p><p>He wouldn’t let them. He’d run before he let anyone touch him like that. He’d never submit. </p><p>But he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t run from them. They had too much money; they’d find him wherever he went, and even if they didn’t, could he really survive alone on the streets of Gotham? He was helpless.</p><p>“I’ll set up a meeting. Do you think he’ll accept, though?” Jack asked, stepping towards his wife as though his son on the floor was nothing but a broken toy.</p><p>“He has a different omega on his arm at every gala. Clearly, he likes their company quite a bit. He’ll certainly accept a bride who cannot deny him, even if he tried,” Janet said coolly.</p><p>Tim shuddered and tried to hide his tears. She wanted to give him to someone she <em>knew</em> would rape him, someone he couldn’t escape. How- She was his <em>mother</em>, he knew that she didn’t love him, but couldn’t she care just a <em>bit</em>?</p><p>“I’m being sold?” He tried to say it calmly, confidently, but his voice broke into a strangled whimper.</p><p>His mother scoffed at him without even looking down. “Of course. There’s no other use for an omega. You’ll submit to your husband like a good whore, and your pack will benefit. This is your responsibility.”</p><p>“Wh-who?” Tim couldn’t choke out the rest of the sentence. Who had they decided would rape him?</p><p>His father crossed his arms. “You’re going to marry Bruce Wayne.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Plan Failed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Most of this was already written, so quick update! Thank you for all the positive feedback after less than a day to everyone who commented and left kudos!<br/>Edit: I added all the italics back in, same as the first chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Jack had left early in the morning two days later for his meeting with Mr. Wayne, and Tim had been waiting in the grand foyer almost without a break ever since.</p><p>He knew, like, intellectually, the Mr. Wayne wouldn’t buy him, because, <em>duh</em>, Batman, but he was having a hard time convincing his body of that. His heart pounded wildly, his hands were clammy and gross, and his stomach roiled, both with heat pain and at the thick scent of distress and pheromones in the room. Janet had tried to order him to his room, but he kept sneaking back, and eventually, she just gave up and opened windows.</p><p>In the end, he decided that he was less worried about what would happen if Mr. Wayne bought him, and more worried about what would happen when he didn’t. His parents were going to be furious, and while he kind of hoped that they’d just spend a lot of time thinking about what to do next, go on another trip, and forget, like they usually did with commitments they made to him, he didn’t think that that was going to happen this time.</p><p>After a few hours, Janet wordlessly stepped into the room. Neither of his parents had spoken to him since the first morning except to snap order and make absolutely sure how much of a disappointment he was. Instead of acknowledging him or snapping at him to stop making her house smell like a crime scene, she leaned against the banister to watch the front door with him. He supposed that meant that his dad would be back soon, and his gut wrenched again. He wasn’t sure if that would be good or bad, but at least it would mean an end to the waiting.</p><p>It was only a few more minute before they heard the Drake’s rental (they were never in town long enough to need their own car) roar up the front drive with a worrying speed. His dad was either really excited, or really mad.</p><p><br/>Tim was leaning towards mad, given the whole “trying to sell my kid to the unholy terror of the night” thing, but that wasn’t assured, he realized. He might have drastically mistyped Batman, and the real Bruce Wayne was more of a “do as I say and not as I do” type person, or maybe he didn’t really mind child brides. Like, he’d stop a grab &amp; go rape, but if they were, like, married, then maybe he wouldn’t really mind.</p><p>The door flew open and Jack stormed into the foyer, his whole body and scent <em>screaming</em> rage.</p><p>Tim breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He wasn’t getting married, then.</p><p>Janet frowned in confusion. “He refused.”</p><p>“Refused? Refusing is one thing, but that <em>bastard</em>,” Jack snarled, hurling his briefcase at the floor, where it landed on its spine with a resounding crack and an eruption of papers. “That absolute <em>bastard</em> had the nerve to <em>lecture</em> me about how we should ‘respect and treasure our son’ and ‘cherish the time we have with him.’”</p><p>Oh, that was… That was beautiful. Poetic. The small part of him that had been worried about Mr. Wayne actually wanting him <em>that way</em> curled up and died of laughter. The thought of his parents actually following through on Mr. Wayne’s suggestion and <em>respecting</em> him and <em>cherishing</em> their time with him, though, was just too much.</p><p>Jack turned and shot a glare at Tim, like it was his fault that Mr. Wayne didn’t want to buy him, and Tim struggled to keep his grin in check.</p><p>He must not have been able to keep his amusement from his scent, because his father’s expression darkened, and he stalked toward Tim.</p><p>“You think that this is <em>funny,</em> bitch?” Jack snatched Tim’s collar before Tim could make a run for it and shook him harshly.</p><p>Tim stumbled, throwing his head back in submission to bare his throat. Jack growled and slapped Tim hard across the face with enough force to send him crashing to the ground.</p><p>His head hit the tile hard, making his vision swim with disjointed shapes and blurred edges. He tried to get up, but his father’s shoe slammed into his ribs and he was down again with a cry of pain. The next kick landed in his stomach, then another to his ribs, then his mother’s voice was saying something quietly that Tim couldn’t hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears.</p><p>“He deserves it, pompous little omega brat!” Jack snapped venomously.</p><p>Tim chanced a glance up, but found only a furious glare from his father and a cool, calculating stare from his mother.</p><p>“True.” She lifted her chin so that she was looking down her nose at Tim even more than she had been before. “But we won’t get as good a price for him if he’s broken and ugly. His only asset is his pretty face, dear. Luthor or Queen might be interested if he looks decent.”</p><p>A small, ridiculous part of Tim was thrilled, because calling him pretty was the nicest thing his mom had said about him in years. A larger part of Tim cringed at the idea of having to marry Lex Luthor or Oliver Queen. Mr. Wayne was Batman, which meant that of course he would never agree to marry a kid. Tim was sure that the drunken playboy role was just an act.</p><p>Lex Luthor, from what he had overheard from his parents, was arrogant, cruel, manipulative, and completely amoral, and that was just with his business partners. Tim was sure that he wouldn’t object to being given a child bride, and Tim also knew that his parents had wanted a deal with Luthor almost as badly as they wanted a deal with Wayne.</p><p>Oliver Queen, he knew less about. He did know that he was the CEO of Queen Industries. His parents didn’t think much of him. He was apparently what Bruce Wayne pretended to be: a drunk playboy with too much money and low moral character. He was a useful idiot, though, and they might try to get the better of him with a stilted business deal and a young omega. For all those faults, though, Tim was pretty sure that he wasn’t a criminal.</p><p>Jack growled and kicked Tim once more before storming out of the room.</p><p>Janet’s lips curled into a frown of distaste. She didn’t have to say anything to communicate just how disappointed she was. After a few moments, she calmly followed her husband out of the room.</p><p>Tim tried to get up, but it hurt too much to move. He lay there, curled up in a fetal position on the tile floor, where at least the icy tiles numbed the pain of his bruises and heat, for a long time.</p><p>Finally, Tim dragged himself up off the floor, and up two flights of stairs to his bedroom. If he even had his own house, he was going to get a ground floor bedroom, like a sensible person. Or maybe he’d just take suppressants for the heat, and stay away from angry alphas.</p><p>Tim slipped into his room and shut the door behind him louder than he would have normally dared with his parents home, but he was hurt, and they were already mad, so he didn’t think it mattered if he slammed the door.</p><p>Tim wanted to just curl up into a ball and fall asleep for the next five years, but he had research to do first.</p><p>He dragged his laptop out from under his bed, where he’d hidden it in case his dad took it like he’d taken Tim’s phone. Jack had said that Tim didn’t need it anymore, but Tim had a feeling that it was really more out of a fear that Tim would go on social media and paint his parents and their company in a bad light in an attempt to get out of a marriage.</p><p>Tim was smart, though, or at the very least, smarter than that.</p><p>Options were limited for omegas. He could live on the streets, but he doubted he’d survive long without a pack. Jason Todd had done it, but Jason Todd was an alpha and he was strong enough that <em>Batman</em> had impulse-adopted him to be his Robin. If Tim wanted a prayer of survival, he’d probably have to find a pimp or an alpha. He didn’t want to, but if his other option was Luthor… He’d have to see.</p><p>Foster care, especially in Gotham, was basically just the prostitute option. He’d have a guaranteed roof, and probably food, but he wouldn’t get to keep his money and his parents would probably be able to get him back. Gotham’s omega group homes were also hotbeds for abuse without pay.</p><p>Tim’s main problem was that what his parents were doing wasn’t technically illegal. Even though omegas weren’t legally considered property anymore, they were second class citizens. If their parents wanted, they could marry them off to any alpha they wanted. Most didn’t anymore, but most also weren’t negotiating multimillion-dollar business deals. His new husband would be his guardian until he was eighteen, and he couldn’t even be divorced until then.</p><p>At the very least, Tim was the only one in the marriage who could request a divorce. Something about the alpha assuming responsibility since the omega had little real-world experience before the marriage. If he wanted, once he was eighteen, he could just be really really annoying until whatever alpha married him agreed to give him a severance check and alimony.</p><p>That plan probably wouldn’t work. There weren’t any rules about beating your omega for being a brat, or marital rape.</p><p>He needed to make a plan, and for that, he needed information.</p><p>A search on Lex Luthor turned up relatively innocuous results, until Tim started trying to get around any doctoring of the algorithm by adding keywords like <em>crime</em> and <em>conspiracy</em>. Most people turned their noses up as soon as the word <em>conspiracy</em> was uttered, but Tim had figured out that the richest man in Gotham ran around town dressed as a bat and beating people up with his underage accomplice all because of an acrobatic move. Small clues were important, and rich people are weird.</p><p>It turned out that the internet suspected Lex Luthor of a <em>lot</em>. Illegal weapons deals, links to supervillains, human testing, abuse, rape, murder. There wasn’t much that he <em>wasn’t</em> suspected of. Several of his more vocal accusers had turned up “suicided” as some had termed it. There was one, a CK, whose allegations of Luthor’s crimes was so extensive that Tim wasn’t sure if it could actually be true that one man had committed so many crimes.</p><p>Luthor was a hard<em> no</em>. Tim would rather chance the streets. Tim would rather die. Heck, if he wanted to die, marrying Luthor would probably take care of that pretty quickly.</p><p>Oliver Queen was a different story. Tim couldn’t find many accusations against him of anything, and the accusations he did find were mostly just being a drunkard and a whore. He didn’t seem so bad, or so smart. He seemed like he’d be nice enough, and Tim might even be able to manipulate Mr. Queen into letting him go to school. He’d probably be safer than the streets even if he couldn’t, and if he wasn’t, then at least the streets of Star City weren’t nearly as dangerous as the streets of Gotham.</p><p>It struck him while he was looking at a photo of Mr. Queen at a charity gala for polio or rickets or something. Mr. Queen’s beard seemed…familiar.</p><p>There was no way.</p><p>Tim quickly split the screen and pulled up every picture the public had of Star City’s Green Arrow on one side, comparing it to the picture of Oliver Queen from the newspaper.</p><p>How.</p><p>Had.</p><p>No one.</p><p>
  <em>Noticed? </em>
</p><p>The facial hair was the exact same, the build, the hair color. Wouldn’t it be more efficient to wear a mask over his mouth and nose than over his eyes? It would take away the risk of the domino slipping over his eyes and<em> actually cover extremely identifiable marks. </em></p><p>His heart sank. Mr. Wayne wouldn’t buy him, because he was a hero. Mr. Queen was a hero too.</p><p>He was being sold to Luthor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Delayed Realization</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry, that was closer to four hours than two, but this got longer than I intended. Most of the next chapter is already written, so that will be up soon. People are very worried about Luthor, and as I have been threatened and fear for my life, I have decided to be nice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Tim briefly hoped that Oliver Queen had less moral character than Bruce Wayne and would agree to marry a reluctantly submitting thirteen-year-old, but the thought soured in his gut. They say that meeting your heroes is disappointing, how much worse would it be to marry one? He knew that adults mating with kids was bad, but Luthor was bad, and bad people doing bad things was nothing new. Heroes, though…</p><p>Tim didn’t want to live in a world where a hero would want a child as a wife. That was just wrong, and heroes weren’t allowed to be wrong like that.</p><p>He decided just to start compiling evidence of Mr. Luthor’s more egregious crimes – the dead business rivals, inconvenient employees, and private detectives, along with the swindling and stilted business deals. Those were the things that might actually convince them not to deal with Luthor. Not the fact that he was an extremely horrible person and a credibly accused serial rapist.</p><p>He stayed at his laptop for hours, assembling his evidence, and once he felt that he had enough, he finally closed his laptop and looked up. </p><p>The first light of dawn was starting to peek in through the gap in his curtains and he groaned. He was definitely going to regret pulling an all nighter later, especially while he was still in heat. At least he’d already been planning on avoiding his parents all day.</p><p>As an awareness dawned on him that time and his physical body were both things that, surprisingly, still existed even if he ignored both things indefinitely, he realized that he was <em>hungry</em>. </p><p>Tim tapped a nervous pattern with his fingers on the plastic casing of his laptop, weighing his options. He was pretty sure that he had at least half a granola bar stuffed in one of his backpacks, but he was hungrier than that. He wanted real food, which meant going down to the kitchen and running the risk of bumping into his parents. He’d had enough verbal beatdowns over the past days to last him the rest of his life, but they were <em>probably</em> still sleeping at…</p><p>Tim glanced at his alarm clock. 6:23. They were probably still asleep.</p><p>His stomach growled angrily at him, making the decision. It was a chance he’d have to take. Worse came to worse, he’d get to be told how worthless omegas are and how disappointed they were in him again, as if it were fresh news the hundred thirty-seventh time. </p><p>Tim quietly tiptoed across his room and turned the knob. The door swung open without a sound, courtesy of the well-oiled hinges he’d found were a staple of any kid who liked to sneak in and out of his house without getting caught. He could technically climb up the rugged brick exterior of their home, and he could even be doing that now, but it wasn’t a climb he liked to make in the dark, or when he was physically compromised, as he was in heat.</p><p>There was no light coming from under his parents’ bedroom, so Tim sneaked silently down the hall to the stairs. He stayed quiet, though less cautiously, as he got farther away.</p><p>Two flights of stairs and a hall later, Tim had reached the kitchen. He flipped on the light and made a move for the pantry, only to freeze when he noticed his father glaring at him.</p><p>“What are you doing up?” Jack asked brusquely. </p><p>Tim blinked twice, recalibrating quickly. “I just like getting up early. Wh-what are you doing up?”</p><p>Jack grunted. “Tashkent is nine hours ahead of Gotham. It takes some time to adjust. Of course, having to deal with the fallout of our only heir being an <em>omega</em> hasn’t helped our sleep schedule much.”</p><p>Tim wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to respond to that, so he just nodded and tried to look docile and submissive. Jack turned back to the bagel he’d been eating at the window, watching the sunrise, and Tim took that as his chance to sneak into the pantry.</p><p>He’d been hoping to be able to sneak a bunch of food back up to his bedroom so that he wouldn’t have to leave for the rest of the day, but with his dad right there, that plan was dashed. Tim stuffed some packaged food into the pockets of his pajama pants, then grabbed a box of cereal and took it to the counter.</p><p>He tried not to look directly at his dad while he made himself a giant bowl of cereal. It was more than he’d normally eat, but if he ate it all, and what was in his pockets, he might be able to hole up in his room, at least until his parents went to bed. If they were getting up early, they’d be sleeping early too.</p><p>He did have to present his “please don’t make me marry this terrible person, not because you care in anyway for my well being or anything, but because it’ll probably turn out badly for you too” plan, though, and he’d have to do it before anything with Luthor was finalized. He couldn’t hide <em>all</em> day, unless he got it over with now. </p><p>Tim sat down at the island and took a few bites, trying to come up with a natural sounding conversation starter that wouldn’t get him berated, but he gave up quickly.</p><p>“Dad?” Tim tried. </p><p>Jack’s nose wrinkled in disgust, and Tim remembered all the “you’re not our son” stuff.</p><p>Tim lowered his head and tried again, trying to keep the hurt out of his tone and scent. “Sir.”</p><p>“What?” </p><p>Tim poked at his cereal with a waning appetite. “H-Have you decided who I’m going to marry?”</p><p>Tim chanced a quick glance to Jack, who seemed annoyed, but not violent as he had been before. Not yet, at least.</p><p>“You’ll marry who I tell you to marry, bitch,” Jack snarled. </p><p>Tim nodded obediently, then started tapping nervously on the counter.</p><p>“Cut that out,” Jack warned, and Tim stopped immediately. </p><p>“It’s just-” Tim took a deep breath and raised his head to meet his father’s eyes. “You know that Luthor is suspected of several murders, and of defrauding his business partners, right?”</p><p>Jack’s expression briefly flickered to surprise before the glower was back. “If you think that making up things is going to get you out of this-”</p><p>“It’s not that!” Tim rushed, and nearly panicked when he realized that he had just interrupted his dad, which would have landed him in a heap of trouble even before he had presented. He had less than five seconds before his dad exploded, though, and then he’d never get a word in edgewise, so Tim just went for it. “I have a lot of evidence on my computer. I’ll show it to you. I’m fine with anyone else, but I don’t think that Luthor is a-”</p><p>Jack stood with enough force to send his chair crashing to the floor, and he stormed toward Tim. Tim scrambled off his barstool and backed toward the door, watching his father with wide eyes.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, sir, I just-”</p><p>Jack grabbed Tim by the throat and slammed him against the doorframe, hard. Tim cried out in pain, a second cry choked off when his dad tightened his grip. Tim could barely breathe, and tears of pain and fear sprang unbidden to his eyes.<em> He can’t hurt me permanently, he wants that money, he can’t hurt me, he can’t hurt me.</em></p><p>That didn’t make it hurt any less as the hard wooden corners jabbed into his back and his father’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of his neck.</p><p>“You’ll marry who I tell you to marry, whether you like it or not,” Jack snarled, leaning in close to Tim’s face. Jack stopped, then closed his eyes and put his nose against Tim’s collarbone, right on the scent gland, and took a deep breath. “This, right here, is all you have anymore. This scent and this…” Jack’s free hand came up and rested on Tim’s chest, then began to trail, slowly and uncomfortably, down the front of Tim’s body.</p><p>“Dad?” Tim whimpered. Jack’s hand hit the waistband of Tim’s pajama pants and started to toy with it. “Dad?!”</p><p>Jack pulled back to look at Tim’s face, a lecherous gleam to his eye to match his vicious grin. His scent was shifting too, becoming muskier and stronger.</p><p>His dad was going into <em>rut</em>.</p><p>Jack’s hand started to tug Tim’s waistband lower and lower on his hips. “If you’re so scared of what Luthor’s going to do to you, maybe I should give you a preview.”</p><p>Tim grabbed his pants and tried to pull them up, but his dad growled at him and tugged more insistently.</p><p>“Dad, please don’t do this! Please!” Tim choked out.</p><p>Jack pressed his body against Tim’s, pinning him to the doorframe more effectively. His hand slid away from Tim’s throat, and he started sloppily mouthing Tim’s neck. “We wouldn’t want you to be scared when your new husband stakes his claim, would we?” </p><p>“Dad, please!” Tim’s protest and struggles were ineffectual. Both of his father’s hands lustily gripped the dips of his waist, the fingers tight enough to bruise, then slowly felt their way down Tim’s sides. He wasn’t going to stop. There was no way to stop him, no way to-</p><p>“MOM!” Tim screamed. Jack growled in annoyance and tried to cover Tim’s mouth, but Tim turned in time to scream once more before his dad clapped his hand across Tim’s face.</p><p>“Do you think she’s going to help you, Timmy? She might decide to join me in breaking you in,” Jack snapped.</p><p>But she wouldn’t, because his mom was a beta and not in rut, and she was smart enough to know that he was worth a lot more as a virgin. It was a big house, but if she had heard him, he might stand a prayer of not getting knotted by his dad. Jack knew that too, or he wouldn’t have covered Tim’s mouth.</p><p>Before Jack could resume his groping, Janet Drake rushed into the kitchen from another door. She took one look at Jack, then at Tim, and huffed in frustration.</p><p>“Jack, what in the world are you doing?” she snapped, storming over and pulling Jack off of Tim.</p><p>Tim’s knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. He raised his trembling hands to cover his face and the silent tears of fear and relief that he couldn’t stop.</p><p>Janet dragged Jack a few paces away, keeping her body between the rutting alpha and the heat-stricken omega. “We offered Luthor a virgin omega. You know as well as I do what happens when people cheat Lex Luthor. If you could keep your instincts in check so that we don’t get ourselves killed, that would be quite satisfactory, dear.”</p><p>Jack growled, but it seemed a token protest. He clearly knew that his wife was right.</p><p>“I’m sure a little…practice, for the boy, wouldn’t hurt, don’t you think? Just touching,” Jack promised. </p><p>The trembling in Tim’s hands spread to the rest of his body and he nearly threw up.</p><p>“I’m your<em> son</em>!” Tim cried, unable to stop himself. Didn’t that count for <em>anything?</em></p><p>Jack growled at him, but Janet silenced them both with a disapproving glower.</p><p>“Honestly, Timothy, you should have known better than to be around an alpha alone in your state. Why do you think I’ve stayed close to you during your heat? It certainly wasn’t the quality of the company,” Janet scoffed. “Omegas are a temptation to alphas in the best of conditions. In heat, they are nearly irresistible. Add to that the stress your father has been under, and of <em>course</em> he would be in an unfit state of mind. If you didn’t want to be assaulted, then you should have stayed in your room.”</p><p>Tim stared at her in horror. “B-but-”</p><p>“Go upstairs, Timothy,” Janet sighed.</p><p>Janet took Jack by the arm and led him away, leaving Tim a shaking, terrified mess. He had to make three attempts at standing before his ankles and knees agreed to hold him up, and even then, it was only long enough for him to stumble to the sink and vomit up everything he’d eaten.</p><p>They knew. </p><p>He leaned back, supporting himself with a white knuckled grip on the rim of the sink.</p><p>They knew that Luthor was dangerous for them, they had to know that he was also a danger to Tim, and they’d chosen to force him to marry Luthor anyway. There was no way out. </p><p>His sides tingled as phantom versions of his father’s hands grabbed his sides slid down to his hips. His stomach churned violently, and he barely leaned forward in time for the bile to land in the sink. He swiped the cuff of his sleeve across his mouth, but caught the scents of fear and rut that lingered where his sleeve had hit his father’s wrist scent gland, and he threw up again.</p><p>Finally, when there was truly nothing left in his stomach, Tim stood up. He didn’t rinse out the sink. It was a small, meaningless victory, but one of them would have to do it.</p><p>Walking up the stairs felt like climbing a mountain, even though it was only two flights. He couldn’t escape the sensation of his father’s hands sneaking up on him and grabbing him. He couldn’t stop the tears blurring his vision, either.</p><p>When he reached the third floor, he took a deep, shuddering breath, rubbing his hands up and down his sides to cover the feeling of hands. It helped, but the phantom fingers went deeper than his hands could hope to.</p><p>He practically ran into his bedroom, locked the door, and shoved his desk up against it. With that secure, he rushed into his bedroom and started pulling off his clothes, which he hated because now he was uncovered and even more vulnerable than before, but those clothes smelled unescapably like his father. He shoved them into the trash can, then stuffed a towel over them to stop it up. </p><p>Tim turned the water on as hot as it could go, then jumped into the spray and viciously scrubbed everywhere his father had touched, not even stopping when his skin was red and raw. He just wanted it to go away, but he could <em>still feel him.</em></p><p>The tears that had been so quiet and manageable caught in Tim’s throat and he choked on a sob. If he couldn’t even trust his own father not to do <em>this</em> to him, and if he couldn’t trust his mother to save him for anything other than her own benefit, then who could he trust?</p><p>The sobs kept coming, wracking his whole body. He wanted to stop, so he could get out and get dressed and hide and not be so vulnerable, but he couldn’t do anything more than huddle miserably on the floor of the shower and cry, even as the burning hot water ran out and turned frigid.</p><p>He left his room once the rest of the day. He briefly napped, hidden under his bed, but it was a restless sleep and plagued by nightmares. He didn’t eat, either, but he dumped all the packaged food he’d stolen from the kitchen into his backpack, along with several pairs of dark clothes that would cover almost his whole body, a toothbrush, a sleeping bag, and all of his money. </p><p>He waited until he hear his parents in the kitchen for an early dinner, then sneaked into their room, found their wallets. About half of it was in foreign currency that he couldn’t use, but he got nearly three hundred American dollars between the two wallets. He considered taking the cards, too, but decided against it. If he got caught, that was a crime they could prove. They wouldn’t actually be able to prove that the cash he’d taken was theirs and not his allowance. He also found a box of scent blocking patches that his parents wore in business meetings, and took those too.</p><p>He quickly went back to his room, locked and barricaded the door, then waited. It was another hour or two before they made their way up to their bedroom. He gave it another hour, until it was nearly dark and he was sure that they were asleep. </p><p>Opening the window and swinging out onto the brick footholds for the last time should have felt awful. He should have had second thoughts, and then third and fourth thoughts, until he realized that his parents were not as bad as he thought, and climbed back inside and then never speak of his aborted runaway attempt again.</p><p>But it didn’t.</p><p>Gotham was a dangerous city, especially for packless children and omegas, but it was far more home than his house was. Gotham, for all its faults, would hide him from his parents, and his marriage. He could do odd jobs, maybe forge some papers and pretend to be older than he was to get hired some place, or even just steal. It didn’t even matter anymore, but he was <em>never</em> letting an alpha touch him again.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Nice." Heh, I was lying. And you thought that it would be Luthor.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Not Thought Through</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shorter chapter! Chapter four was getting absurdly long, so I decided to split it up.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim walked two miles to the nearest bus station and caught the next bus into the heart of Gotham. There was no one else on the bus when he got on, and only a few others got on the entire trip. No one paid any attention to him.</p><p>When he reached his stop, Tim stepped off the bus and pulled his hood over his head. He felt twitchy and exposed, instead of enveloped and hidden like he normally did in Gotham. It was probably just his imagination, since he was wearing two layers of scent blockers, but he was sure he smelled omega on himself. Maybe there was some lingering scent on his clothes, but hopefully it would just smell like he’d been in the same general area as an omega. </p><p>It smelled stronger than that, though, and it was stressing him out, which was bad. If he got stressed out, he might sweat off his scent patches, and he had a limited supply of them. He was alone, now, so he had to be careful with his resources. Though, really, if he had closed his window, his parents probably wouldn’t have thought to lock it, and he could have snuck back in and steal money, or maybe antiques, again. He frowned, and hoped that they wouldn’t think to change the locks. </p><p>It was early in the night, so he needed to find a place to go to ground. He was running on adrenaline, but he’d only slept for a couple of hours since the previous night, and he was going to crash soon. </p><p>He hadn’t really given much thought to this part of his escape, he realized with annoyance. The broad strokes, yes, but he should have done some more research on day-to-day survival on the streets. That had been a major oversight on his part, but it was too late to dwell on it. Maybe he could find a nice park bench for the night, or roll out his sleeping bag in some bushes. He was small and inconspicuous. </p><p>Though, really, if he wanted to be unnoticed…</p><p>Tim looked up at the buildings towering above him, with their roofs high above the street. His parents probably would try to find him, since he was worth a lot of money, but they wouldn’t think to look for him there.</p><p>Over the years chasing Batman, Tim had learned how to climb a lot of stuff in order to get good shots and escape sticky situations. He could clamber up a drainpipe, or some bricks, or- </p><p>Caught up in trying to find a decent rooftop, Tim didn’t notice the scuff of footsteps behind him until it was too late.</p><p>Huge hands reached around him, one over his mouth, cutting off his scream, and one pinning his arms to his sides. Tim thrashed as he was dragged backwards into an alley, but it was like fighting a brick wall, or, judging by the lack of scent, a stupidly large beta.</p><p><em>I’m going to die,</em> he thought. Moderately better than marrying Luthor, but he still couldn’t believe that he had lasted a grand total of five minutes on the street. </p><p>A hulking figure stepped from the shadows, and the light from the streetlight glinted on the blade of a knife. Tim could almost instantly smell the dominance pheromones that the alpha was projecting, and he had to fight hard against his instincts not to bare his neck and give in. </p><p>Stupid <em>hormones</em>! He wasn’t going to give in and die like that. Tim tried to bite the hand of the man holding him. The man growled and knocked his fist hard against the side of Tim’s head. The world spun and blurred, and he would have fallen if the beta hadn’t been holding him in a death grip.</p><p>“So,” the alpha drawled, stepping closer as Tim’s vision started to refocus. Most of his face was hidden in shadows, but Tim could make out scars a crooked nose that spoke of a violent lifestyle. “What’s a pretty little ‘mega like you doing so far from home, hm?”</p><p>Tim froze. The scent patches <em>had</em> failed. He had been so sure to apply them exactly as the box had shown, and he’d even added a second layer. How could they smell him?</p><p>The alpha chuckled and stepped closer. “You running away? Mommy and Daddy don’t understand, do they?” he taunted. “Well, my friend and I here understand. Maybe the three of us go back to my place, and we show you just how well we<em> understand</em>. What do you think, kid?”</p><p>The phantom hands were back, his father’s hands trailing over his body, coming to get him. Tim blinked quickly to hold back tears. He wouldn’t let them see him cry, but they wanted to touch him, just like his dad, just like every alpha, and he couldn’t breathe, and his mom was right, and…</p><p>“Aw, baby’s shaking,” the beta teased, rubbing his cheek against Tim’s hair in an unwanted scenting.</p><p>“Shivering in anticipation? Well, no need to wait. Let’s get the party started,” the alpha laughed and stepped forward.</p><p>Tim cried out ineffectually against the hand over his mouth and tried to kick the alpha in the groin, but the alpha grabbed his foot and quickly closed the distance, too close for Tim’s kicks to get any kind of momentum. The alpha grinned and reached for Tim’s belt buckle. Tim screamed again and closed his eyes.</p><p>The hand never touched him. Both his assailants cried out, followed by a meaty thud that sounded like a body hitting concrete. Tim’s eyes snapped open, and the alpha was just <em>gone</em>, and in his place was <em>Batman</em>.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Tentative Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who's commented! I really love reading them, and they always make me really excited to write the next chapter. Speaking of...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The beta didn’t have time to react before Batman’s fist arched over Tim’s head directly into the beta’s head. The man stumbled backwards, losing his grip on Tim and spinning a moment before collapsing onto the concrete near his similarly unconscious friend.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Batman asked gently, in a voice far gentler than Tim would have thought he would risk in the cowl. If you knew to listen for it, his soft voice had a lot more Bruce Wayne than Batman.</p><p>Tim nodded weakly, though he wasn’t sure it was true. He did know that he had to get out of there before Mr. Wayne – Batman? Tim would think of him as Batman, since he didn’t want to accidentally call him Mr. Wayne on the streets of Gotham. That would be its own disaster on many levels – could figure out that he was a runaway.</p><p>He took a shaky step in the direction of the mouth of the alley, and that was it for his grand escape. His leg gave way beneath him, and he found himself careening toward a mouthful of concrete faster than he could catch himself.</p><p>Batman lunged forward and caught him, and Tim caught his breath, because Mr. Wayne was an alpha, and he was touching Tim, and if the muggers could smell him, then Batman could too. His mother’s warning about alphas rang in his ears. </p><p><em>If you didn’t want to be assaulted, then you should have stayed in your room.</em> Tim had left his room, and he was alone with an alpha in a dark alley where no one would ever see what happened, and the alpha was <em>still</em> touching him.</p><p>Tim took several deep, shuddering breaths to calm himself, and tried to remind himself that Batman was a hero. He saved omegas from this type of situation all the time. Tim watched him, and he’d never seen Batman take advantage of a victim. Of course, none of those victims had been as small and weak as Tim was…</p><p>Batman slowly lowered Tim to the ground. The cold, wet concrete bit into his hands and slowly seeped the warmth from his body, but he breathed a huge sigh of relief when Batman pulled his hands away and stepped back. </p><p>“Everything’s going to be alright. I’m going to tie them up, then take you somewhere safe. Is that okay with you?”</p><p>Tim nodded reluctantly. He didn’t want Batman to take him anywhere, because that would probably mean home and – his skin prickled from deep within him in every place his dad had touched – home wasn’t any better. He didn’t think that he’d get to have much of a choice, though.</p><p>Batman moved quickly, binding the wrists of both of Tim’s assailants, and then calling in the police to come and pick them up.</p><p>Once that was taken care of, he turned back to Tim, his movements becoming slow and easy to follow. He stopped several feet away and knelt down, putting himself close to Tim’s eye level. </p><p>“Hi, there,” Batman said, again in that highly incriminating, but very kind voice. “Can I come closer? Or do you want me to stay over here?”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened, but then he stiffened and lowered his head. Batman wouldn’t hurt him. Batman wasn’t going to hurt him, he just wanted to make sure Tim wasn’t injured, and then he’d make sure he was safe, so why was Tim so <em>scared</em>? His heart hammered against his ribs, and his throat felt tight, like his dad was still choking him. </p><p>“It’s fine,” he whispered at last. “You can come close.”</p><p>Batman nodded and moved to Tim’s side, but didn’t quite touch him. “You’re not safe here, son. Not while you’re still in heat. I want to take you some place where you won’t be hurt. Is that alright with you?”</p><p>Tim forced himself to nod, because of course Batman wasn’t going to do anything bad, because heroes didn’t get turned on by scrappy little omega pups, even if they were in heat and alone and basically packless and totally vulnerable and no one would ever know if Tim was raped and murdered and dumped in the harbor. Batman was safe, or no one was.</p><p>“Can you walk, or do you need help?”</p><p>Tim took a deep breath and tried to get up, but his body had decided to give up and completely abandon him, apparently. He tried again, then slumped back. </p><p>“Help, please,” he whispered. He was so <em>pathetic.</em></p><p>Batman slowly put one arm against Tim’s back, and the other under his knees, then lifted him into the air as if he weighed almost nothing. Tim tried to make himself untense and enjoy himself, because he was being princess carried by Batman, and that was totally the coolest thing that had ever happened to him, but his mind refused to get with the program. It was all he could do to fight back a panic attack by reminding himself that Batman wouldn’t hurt him.</p><p>Batman carried him about a block before turning into an alley, and Tim’s heart raced, either in fear or excitement, he didn’t know.</p><p>The <em>Batmobile</em>. Whatever else had happened, he was going to get to ride in the Batmobile.</p><p>Batman opened the passenger door and set Tim gently in the seat, then closed the door and walked around the back of the car. The dash interior was so amazing that Tim forgot to be scared. The leather seats, the speedometer that went up to <em>three hundred</em>, and the dozens of glowing buttons that did…things, which were all probably really cool.</p><p>Preoccupied with his fanboy excitement of being in <em>Batman’s</em> car, he failed to notice the absence of the Dark Knight himself until Batman opened the driver’s door and sat down in his own seat, a stack of folded gray blankets in his arms.</p><p>Batman gave him a slight and weary smile. “I know nesting helps some omegas feel more secure after something frightening happens. Would you like to nest with these?”</p><p>Tim had never actually nested before, but it seemed rude to refuse, so he nodded.</p><p>Batman put the blankets on the center console before Tim could even panic at the thought of having to lean in close to Batman to take them, of Batman leaning close to give them to Tim. It was a respectful, reassuring gesture, and Tim felt his fear fading at the edges.</p><p>He wasn’t really sure what to do with the blankets, but he was cold, so he unfolded them all and wrapped them around himself. They felt nice, he had to admit. It was naïve to think that blankets would protect him, but he felt shielded and safe. No one would dare hurt him on Batman’s watch, and Batman…Batman was safe. He was pretty sure. So he buried his face against his knees and focused on taking deep breaths.</p><p>After several silent minutes, Tim finally looked up and mumbled, “I’m fine now. I can leave.”</p><p>It was half request. He wanted to get somewhere quiet, secret, away from any alpha who might try to grab him. He wondered if he’d get to keep the blankets.</p><p>Batman nodded hesitantly. “Where am I taking you?”</p><p>Tim sniffed and wiped the remnants of tears from his cheeks. “I’m fine getting out here.”</p><p>Batman sighed. “I can’t let you stay on the streets, especially not while you’re still in heat.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” Tim argued.</p><p>It was amazing how unimpressed Batman could look when only one tiny part of his face showed. “They grabbed you near the bus station, and you’re still clean. It’s obvious that you <em>just</em> ran away. Now that you see how dangerous the streets are, is it still worth running away? If you go back now, your parents might never know you left. Or are you in danger at home?”</p><p>Tim sniffed again and turned away. He didn’t want to talk about his dad, or his mom, or anything, but he had to say enough that he wouldn’t get forced back to them. “My parents are making me get married.” </p><p>Batman said nothing, and Tim’s cheeks flushed. That made him sound like just a stereotypical princess type, and he didn’t want Batman to think that he was just a stupid kid who thought that the streets would be better than an alpha he didn’t really like so much.</p><p>“H-he’s a criminal, and he’s suspected of a lot of really horrible stuff, so I-” Tim picked at the hem of the blanket so he didn’t have to look directly at Batman. “They know that, um, they know he’s bad at stuff, but they want to get a deal with him, so…”</p><p>“I understand,” Batman said. “Can you tell me his name? I might be able to get him put away for you.”</p><p>Tim glanced at Batman for a second, and found sincere and open body language to match his tone. He remembered his father coming home a few days ago, furious that Bruce Wayne had turned him down and wanted Tim to be cherished and loved by his parents. Batman wouldn’t hurt him.</p><p>Tim took a shuddering breath and sat up a bit straighter. “He’s really good at what he does. He doesn’t leave evidence lying around. I don’t think even you could bring him down, and if he thinks you’re coming for him, he’ll kill you.”</p><p>“A lot of people have tried to kill me,” Batman assured him, sounding almost amused. “I want to help you. Who is it?”</p><p>If Tim got Batman killed with this, he’d… He didn’t really know what he’d do, but he really didn’t want to find out.</p><p>Tim glanced away and flinched at the words. “Lex Luthor.”</p><p>From the corner of his eye, he caught Batman’s almost imperceptible stiffening. Tim tensed and looked up, hunching his shoulders, and wishing that he could disappear into the nest of blankets. Apparently, Batman knew about Luthor.</p><p>“What are your parents’ names?” Batman asked tersely.</p><p>“J-Jack and Janet Drake,” Tim whispered.</p><p>Batman was silent for a long minute. He looked angry, clutching the wheel with what was probably a white-knuckled grip underneath the gauntlets. </p><p>“What’s your name, son?” Batman asked at last, sounding a bit more calm.</p><p>He swallowed hard and looked away. “Tim Drake.”</p><p>Batman sighed heavily. “Alright, Tim. I have a plan to keep you safe and make sure that you won’t have to marry Luthor, but I need you to do something for me in order for it to work.”</p><p>Tim’s heart pounded in a rush of exhilaration and fear. Batman was <em>helping</em> him, and he was <em>helping</em> Batman. He hoped that it wasn’t anything too dangerous. </p><p>“Yes?” Tim said.</p><p>“I need you to go back to your parents.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Plan in Motion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to everyone who commented and gave kudos! I was going to hold on to this chapter until tomorrow, but then people really wanted it, so I decided to post it tonight. This is a kind of long chapter, so I hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim jumped back in shock and yanked desperately at the door handle, but the door stayed shut though no matter how hard Tim tried.</p><p>“Let me out! I’m not going back to them! You can’t make me!” Tim cried, trying to sound more threatening than a ninety pounds soaking wet omega pup really could be. “Let me out of here!”</p><p>Batman held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Tim, I’m trying to help. If you go back to your parents, just for tonight, then I can get you away from them legally. You won’t ever have to worry about them again, and you won’t have to live on the streets and look over your shoulder every day until you turn eighteen.”</p><p>Tim stayed pressed against the door, as far away from Batman as he could. He wasn’t sure he had a choice, though. With the scent patches not covering his heat scent, he was basically wearing a target on his back. He might normally be able to hide on the roofs, but leaking <em>HELLO I CAN HAVE BABIES</em> pheromones like mad would alert everyone below him to his position. </p><p>Still. </p><p>“Foster homes aren’t safe for omegas,” Tim rushed. “Group homes, too. Just let me go, and I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I’m not going to take you to one of those,” Batman promised, sincere enough that Tim started to waver. “I’ll make sure that you’re safe, but I can only do that working through your parents. Will you trust me?”</p><p> He slowly released the door handle. “Just tonight?”</p><p>“Maybe tomorrow night, too, but likely no longer. They won’t sell you to Luthor,” Batman assured him. </p><p>“What if you’re wrong?” Which was a dumb thing to say to Batman, to Bruce Wayne, the only person who seemed to care at least a little bit about Tim and what he wanted. </p><p>Batman didn’t act insulted, though, and seemed to take Tim’s concern seriously. He reached into one of the pockets on his utility belt and pulled out a small metal square. When Tim looked closer, he could see a dividing line down the square, from one corner to the other. Batman flicked it open like a zippo lighter. Inside, under the cover, was a small red button. </p><p>“This is a panic button and a tracker,” Batman said, then snapped it shut and held it out to Tim. </p><p>It took Tim a moment to realize that he was supposed to take it. He reached out tentatively, in case he’d misread the situation and Batman was just showing him bat-tech to assure Tim that he was awesome and Batman, and that Tim would be safe if he said so, because that had been his first assumption. </p><p>It felt like he was going to <em>die</em> of happiness when Batman placed the panic button – was it a <em>bat</em>-panic button? He was definitely calling it that – in his slightly trembling hand. He hoped that Batman didn’t want it back, because that was never <em>ever</em> happening.</p><p>“If your parents hurt you, or if they try to give you to Luthor, press this button and hide. I’ll come get you,” Batman continued as Tim stared in fascination at the gadget.</p><p>His excitement soured. He was only being given the button because he was being thrown back to the wolves. He rubbed his hands up and down his sides, trying to brush away the prickling of phantom hands. It didn’t help. The sensation just grew stronger and more insistent. </p><p>Dread churned in his stomach. If it weren’t for the fact that he really didn’t want to look stupid in front of Batman, he might have thrown up.</p><p>“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll do it.”</p><p>Batman nodded and quickly turned on the car, then whipped out of the alley and onto the empty street.</p><p>“What’s your address?” Batman asked, turning towards Bristol.</p><p>Tim told him, and Batman nodded. He didn’t put the address into a GPS. Tim wondered if that was because Batman had memorized a map of Gotham, or if maybe he just knew where that was.</p><p>They didn’t say much during the ride. Tim didn’t ask what Batman’s plan was. If he needed to know, Batman would have told him, and he didn’t want to Batman to think that he was a pest.</p><p>When they finally pulled into Tim’s neighborhood, Batman slowed down until he parked right at the corner of the Drake property. That was pretty far from the house, so Tim supposed that he was being sneaked back in. He was pretty glad that he wasn’t being frog marched to the door to face the wrath of his parents.</p><p>“How did you get out?” Batman asked, opening his door and climbing out of the car.</p><p>Tim stepped out on the other side. “I climbed out my window.”</p><p>“Can you climb back in?”</p><p>Tim nodded. He’d learned how to scale up the walls of his house a long time ago, because they didn’t have a roof access door, and he wanted to get a cool angle on the sunrise. He’d also done it sometimes to sneak past his parents when he went out bat watching when they were home, but normally, he used the stairs. He wasn’t especially fast, but he’d be able to get back up without being noticed. </p><p>Maybe Batman wanted to make sure that he really could do it – or that he wasn’t going to just pretend to go in and then run off again – but he followed Tim across the well-manicured lawn to the window two below his.</p><p>Batman frowned and looked at the brick, moist with the early morning dew. “That’s too slick. You can’t climb that.”</p><p>Tim was about to assure Batman that he’d be fine, but then the hero pulled out his grappling gun and held out his arm to Tim. </p><p>That.</p><p>That was not an opportunity to be wasted.</p><p>Trying not to grin like a fool, Tim played it cool and stepped up to Batman’s side like this was not the most exciting thing to ever happen to him, even more than getting bat-tech. </p><p>Batman put an arm around his waist, which made his skin crawl, but only a bit. He took a couple of subtle, but deep, breaths to calm his nerves and remind himself again that Batman could have already had him as either Bruce Wayne or Batman if he’d wanted. It helped for a moment, but then he was pulled snuggly against Batman’s side and his throat tightened. </p><p>Batman fired the grappling gun at the roof. Once it was secure, he hit a button, and the wire retracted slowly. His breathing got a bit easier once his feet left the ground. It would be pretty hard to do anything unsavory while in midair. </p><p>By the time they were hovering over three stories of empty air in front of Tim’s open window, he was enjoying himself quite a lot. The perspective two and a half floors up was just slightly different from the one he could get from either window, but it was definitely the better angle for a picture of the Gotham skyline. He’d never really thought to look any time that he’d climbed the wall. He couldn’t really ask Batman to hang on and please take Tim back down once he’d got his camera, and it was too dark, anyway, but maybe when the sun came up, he could hang by his knees from his window sill, and then flip the photos when he edited them.</p><p>With a bit of help, Tim crawled inside, deep in thought as to how to rig a not-dying harness that he could fasten to his bed so he could get that shot. </p><p>Once he was in, he turned to face Batman. Was he supposed to invite him in? Was that the polite thing to do? He didn’t really want to, though. He trusted Batman, enough to let him hold him as long as it took to get inside, but the thought of having an alpha in his bedroom, or any closer than was necessary, made him want to be sick again.</p><p>“Stay here. I’ll make sure that you’re safe,” Batman promised, and Tim breathed a sigh of relief. He was leaving. </p><p>He really did have to work on that nice voice, though. Tim knew to listen for it, but eventually, someone was going to recognize one of the most famous voices in Gotham.</p><p>Tim smiled weakly. “Thank you, sir. I’ll wait here.”</p><p>Batman released the grapple and dropped to the ground. Tim watched him until he was gone. He drove further into Bristol when he  left, rather than turning around and returning to the city, so Batman must have been returning home. Again, Tim didn’t know if he would have noticed if he hadn’t already known that Bruce Wayne was Batman, but it seemed a bit obvious. </p><p>He glanced at the horizon, where the sky was changing from oppressive red-black to slate gray against the slightly less satisfactory angle of a skyline. He’d need some sleep if he were going to be any use to Batman’s plan the next day or the next, so he dropped his backpack, then stripped out of his clothes and pulled on a pajama shirt. He couldn’t find the pants, but his body had picked up on the fact that he was getting ready to sleep, and he was dropping quickly.</p><p>With a yawn, he decided to call off the search. He closed the curtains, then crawled into bed in just his shirt and boxers. He held the panic button, though, his thumb tracing the groove in the metal until sleep finally claimed him.</p><p> </p><p>Tim woke to a hand grabbing him and yanking him out of bed onto his feet. He stumbled along on muscle memory, not fully awake until he was halfway down the hall. </p><p>“Hurry it up,” Janet snapped, giving him a firm shake before pushing a pair of pants into his arms and shoving him forward.</p><p>Tim barely caught himself, not because he was sleepy anymore, but because of the force of the thrust. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“We’ve reached an agreement about your marriage. Put those on,” was all his mother said before she started down the stairs, her chin high.</p><p>Tim tugged on the jeans she must have grabbed from his floor as fast as he could, his heart pounding. Had Luthor come for him? Where was the-</p><p>In his daze, he’d dropped Batman’s panic button on his bed. Or had that all been a dream? No, his shoulders still hurt from where the beta had grabbed him. That meant that Batman had really given Tim a way to call him, and Tim had been stupid enough to drop it.</p><p>Janet sniffed and turned with a glower at his distress. “Do keep that horrid stench out of your scent. Your father and I have secured you a rich husband and prosperity for our pack. You should be grateful. Most parents wouldn’t go through so much trouble to secure a good match for their <em>omega</em>.” </p><p>Tim had to carefully control his scent as he ran after his mother to keep out the distress that would get him in trouble and the anger that would  make it worse. He wished that she’d just be honest about the fact that she was selling him to a horrible person who would hurt him extensively and probably use him for his illegal experiments or worse, just for her own personal benefit.</p><p>Janet didn’t break her brisk pace until they reached the kitchen. He closed his eyes as he stepped through the door frame, and tried not to remember what had happened there the morning before. The hands were there again, and the wood digging into his back…He shuddered, but he couldn’t shake it off.</p><p>His nose alerted him to his father’s presence, and his eyes shot open. The phantoms of touch intensified, and dug Tim fingers into his own sides to quell them. There he was, sitting in the same place that he’d been sitting in yesterday when Tim walked in. This time, though, he watched Tim calculatingly instead of with the rut lust. Tim still stuck as close as possible to his mom, and he took a seat at the far end of the table when she snapped at him to sit down.</p><p>“Eat this, we need to leave soon for your appointment at the salon,” Janet told him sharply, setting a bowl of yogurt and granola in front of him.</p><p>Tim didn’t touch it. “I’m not hungry.”</p><p>That wasn’t true. He was starving, since the last thing he’d eaten and kept down was dinner two nights before, but his stomach churned violently at the thought of eating anything. His marriage to Luthor had been finalized, or would be soon, and he didn’t have any idea what to do. He needed an excuse to get back upstairs and find that panic button. </p><p>Shoes. He’d need shoes if they were going to an appointment. That would give him the excuse he needed to go back up to his bedroom. With that reassurance, his stomach settled slightly, and his nerves were calmed, at least to an extent.</p><p>He’d need some kind of food if he wanted the strength to follow through with Batman’s escape plan, too, so when his dad snapped at him, “Eat your damn food,” he did.</p><p>Tim kept his head down for the duration of the meal. There was complete silence except for the hum of the refrigerator and the clink of silverware on glass. He could feel their stares, though, like cats stalking a mouse, somehow both cruel and detached at once.</p><p>When he’d finally scraped the last of the yogurt he could out of the bowl, and couldn’t put it off any longer, he tucked his hands into his lap to hide the trembling and lifted his face.</p><p>“What is the appointment?” he asked, looking to his mother.</p><p>“We’re going to get your skin and hair taken care of,” Janet said curtly. “He wants you tonight, so we’ll have to rush and do our best to make you presentable.”</p><p>“Tonight!” Tim cried, slamming his hands on the table and jumping up so quickly that the chair crashed to the ground. “I’m getting married <em>tonight</em>?”</p><p>“Don’t talk to us like that,” Jack growled, rising slowly and projecting a scent of dominance nearly strong enough to cover the fear in Tim’s scent. “And pick your chair up before I come over there and <em>make</em> you.”</p><p>Tim trembled, his rabid fear warring with the instincts that said to submit to the angry alpha. He wanted to run now and get away, but that would displease his father, and he didn’t know what to do. Both sides said to keep the danger away from him, though, so he quickly reset the chair and stepped back from the table, putting more distance between him and Jack, but not enough to make Jack mad at him. </p><p>Janet scoffed. “You’ve known for days that this is the plan, Timothy. I don’t know why you’re acting surprised.”</p><p>“But-” Tim hugged his arms around himself and focused on taking deep breaths and not losing his head. All he had to do was go upstairs and get the panic button, and then Batman would come to save him. He wasn’t going to be married, Batman promised. “I thought you were still trying to sort out the details with Luthor.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re not marrying Luthor,” Jack drawled, seeming entirely too pleased with himself. “We’d planned for it, yes, but a certain someone abruptly changed his mind last night.”</p><p>Tim’s blood froze.</p><p>No.</p><p>It couldn’t be.</p><p>“You’re marrying Bruce Wayne.”</p><p>Not again.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Counter-Plan and Counter-Offer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*dying* This is sooooo long (4,000+ words)! I also was writing it entirely from scratch. I had the outline, of course, but unlike chapters five and six, I had not written most of it before I even published the first chapter. I really love reading everyone's comments though, so it was worth it to finish in one day. Thank you to everyone who leaves comments, whether they be funny, nice, whiny, or death threats! I love them all and they really motivate me to write quickly.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim made his way numbly up the stairs when his mother sent him to fetch his shoes. It wasn’t the hopeful retreat with assured salvation at the end. He felt like a condemned man walking up the scaffolding to what was inevitable. </p><p>He took enough time to find the panic button, lost in the folds of blankets.</p><p>The seemingly innocuous piece of metal lay without pomp in his palm. His noose. . It may as well have been a claiming gift. He hadn’t meant to <em>save</em> Tim if his parents or Luthor tried to hurt him, he just wanted to make sure that no one else hurt his omega.<br/>
He couldn’t believe that he’d been <em>stupid</em> enough to trust an alpha. His mom had <em>warned</em> him that an omega in heat was irresistible, and that if he didn’t want to be grabbed, then he had to stay away from alphas. He didn’t know why the scent blockers hadn’t worked, but once he knew that they weren’t covering the scent of his heat, he should have just run and hidden as soon as possible. It didn’t matter what the alpha thought about omegas, apparently. Mr. Wayne had been all for Tim being treated with dignity and respect right up until he met him.</p><p>Smelled him. </p><p>Touched him. </p><p>He clenched his fist around the panic button, letting the hard corners dig into the flesh of his palms to distract from the ghost of Batman’s arm snaked around his waist, the feeling of his body pressed tight against the massive alpha. He couldn’t get away from it, though. Why did he feel things that weren’t there? Couldn’t his body just figure out that being touched once was bad enough, and that Tim didn’t need to be reminded of it every time he was stressed.</p><p>Tim’s breath hitched, and tears stung his eyes. </p><p>He should have been less trusting, less pleasant, more insistent that he be allowed to leave, then maybe he wouldn’t have been so appealing, but there wasn’t any chance to take it back, and now nowhere was safe. He was going to have to marry a man old enough to be his father. He’d never willingly submit to his husband, and no one bought a wife just to look at. He’d be forced – beaten, starved, drugged, it didn’t even matter how – into mating with the man he’d been sure would save him. </p><p>Batman was going to rape him.</p><p>The first sob tore its way out of him, harsh and painful, just like everything else. Once it started, he couldn’t stop. He fell to his knees against the bed, his chest heaving, and stayed there until his sobs turned to breathless gasps. </p><p>Where could he even go to get away from Batman? Even if he could go somewhere that Mr. Wayne couldn’t get him, that wouldn’t stop him from calling in his friends in the Justice League to find him. He couldn’t run, and he couldn’t hide when the person chasing him was the greatest detective in the world and could boss around <em>Superman</em>. </p><p>When he’d finally caught his breath, a surge of anger rushed over him. Tim jumped to his feet and stormed to the window. He unlatched it, threw it open, then hurled the panic button as far away as he could.</p><p>He leaned against the window frame he’d crawled through just hours before, and he swore and punched the wood, then swore again. He’d been sure that there was no torrid pleasure to be had from holding a kid in the air long enough to get him inside, but had Batman been feeling him up, then, even when Tim had been sure that he couldn’t? </p><p>He stared out the window, totally lost even though he knew where he was.</p><p>He could show them all, and just throw himself after the panic button, a vengeful part of him thought. It wouldn’t be a meaningful victory, really, just an annoyance to his buyer and sellers. It would be an escape, though. Not even all the money and metahuman allies in the world could get him once he was dead.</p><p>Tim slammed the window shut. He didn’t want to die. He was thirteen. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it had been a week ago, when he strongly suspected that his parents didn’t care about him, but didn’t know just how right he was. When he thought Batman was the best person alive, and he could run around Gotham taking pictures for hours and never be noticed. He wanted to go to school in a few weeks, and hang out with his friends, and not get<em> married.</em></p><p>The fall was only be three stories, anyway, and the ground was soft. He’d probably just break an arm or a leg. Mr. Wayne would take him anyway, but he wouldn’t be able to fight. </p><p>The memory of Batman ruthlessly knocking out two large opponents the night before flashed in his mind. </p><p>Fighting wouldn’t really work, but he wanted to at least make it a struggle.</p><p>There was no way for him to win against a man like that.</p><p>…At least, not <em>physically</em>…</p><p>If Batman wouldn’t save Tim, then he’d do it himself.</p><p> </p><p>Janet Drake had strong opinions about how an omega was supposed to look, which he found a bit strange for a beta. She wanted him to look “natural,” which meant a lot of weird beta women rubbing tingly stuff onto his face, and treating his hair to make it far glossier than it ever got naturally unless he didn’t bathe for two weeks straight, and filing and shaping his nails to perfection. “Natural,” apparently, was a loose term. </p><p>In the end, he looked like an omega, and he hated it. As soon as she left, he was going to mess it all up. And the <em>clothes</em>…</p><p>“Don’t tug at the shirt like that,” Janet snapped. “You’ll stretch the fabric.”</p><p>Tim waited for her to turn her eyes back to the road before he adjusted the shirt so that the swooping neckline wasn’t quite so low. It was a momentary victory. Within seconds, the fabric had slid back into place, showing off far more of Tim than he was comfortable with anyone seeing. </p><p>Especially the alpha he was being dolled up for. </p><p>Tim wished that he could rip it off and exchange it for a crumpled tee shirt off his bedroom floor. The pants, too, were stiff and uncomfortably fitting. For people who ostensibly didn’t like whores, they sure wanted him to look like one. His mother had bought several pairs of slutty omega-style clothes for him during their trip for him. </p><p>When they returned home at last, Jack was on the phone and scowling.</p><p>“Go upstairs and pack,” Janet ordered briskly, not even waiting to see if he’d done it before she swept across the floor to her husband’s side.</p><p>Tim did as he was told, grateful for the chance to get away from Jack.</p><p>He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, then threw the bag of clothes his mom had bought for him to wear at Wayne Manor under his bed.</p><p>He started the preparations for his plan first, so that if his mom came up and told him it was time to go, he could fall back on the need to pack first. It didn’t take very long to do what he needed too, and then it was simply a matter of hiding them in a few places around the house.</p><p>In its place, he packed his favorite jeans and tee shirts. Sensible clothes cut for comfort and not to attract an alpha’s gaze. He made sure to bring his bat watching clothes, too, in case he decided to make another run for it and needed dark clothes, and his camera, because he’d left it behind by mistake last night, and he didn’t want to do that again.</p><p>Once he was finished, he dragged his suitcase downstairs and looked into the room where his parents were.</p><p>“…dare mess this up for us,” Janet was hissing at Jack. “We need this deal, and if you offend Wayne by fooling around with Timothy-”</p><p>“I <em>know</em>, Jan,” Jack growled back. “It was a mistake, alright? And we don’t really have a choice right now.”</p><p>Janet huffed angrily, the most emotion Tim had ever seen her express. Apparently, her business façade was only for the rest of the world. Her son, but not her husband. </p><p>Janet took a deep breath to collect herself, and apparently smelled Tim. She turned on her heel, spotting him instantly. </p><p>“Timothy, come here.”</p><p>He did so, but stayed as far away as he thought she’d tolerate. </p><p>“Yes, ma’am?” </p><p>Janet crossed her arms impatiently. “There’s been an emergency at the office that needs my expertise. Your father will deliver you to Wayne Manor.”</p><p>Tim inhaled sharply. His eyes darted up to Jack, who was glaring at him, so he turned back to Janet.</p><p>“Can’t you take me, and we’ll go early?” he suggested desperately. He felt like a package being left in the hands of a kid on Christmas.</p><p>“Of course not,” she said, aghast. “That would be horrendously impolite. Your father understands the gravity of the predicament, and we will not face a repeat of yesterday morning. Besides, your heat is fading anyway. It will only be an hour. You’ll behave yourself for your father, and for Mr. Wayne, won’t you?”</p><p>Tim shuddered. Janet Drake was not to be argued with. “Yes, mom.”</p><p>She nodded briskly. “Good. Give us a good name, Timothy.”</p><p>She left without so much as a goodbye, and it struck Tim that he might never see her again. The Drakes only rarely showed their faces in Gotham. Maybe, if he was going to be allowed to go to galas and such, and not squirrelled away like a hidden treasure, he would run into her, but he doubted that either of them would make a point to visit. </p><p>He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He <em>never</em> wanted to see his dad again, but he wasn’t sure about his mom. </p><p>“Go up to your room and stay there until I tell you to come down,” Jack ordered, snapping him abruptly from his thoughts.</p><p>Tim eyed him suspiciously, then dashed up the stairs and didn’t stop running until he was safe behind his locked door again. Then, he shoved his desk in front of the door and opened the window in case he needed to climb out quickly. He didn’t know if his dad had ordered him to his room because he didn’t want to deal with Tim, or because he didn’t trust his own control of himself and didn’t want to mess things up right before they closed an important deal.</p><p>He spent the next half hour alternating between constantly on edge and unceasingly bored. He’d packed his laptop and his favorite books, and his camera too, so he couldn’t even try for that two-and-a-half-story high shot of the skyline. The lighting was perfect, too, so it really was a shame. </p><p>A sudden thud on his door jolted him from his thoughts, and he whirled around to face it, but no one tried the handle. </p><p>“Get your shoes. We’re leaving.” Jack left it at that, and Tim heard his retreating footsteps thumping down the hall.</p><p>Once he could no longer hear Jack’s footsteps, Tim pulled the desk away from the door. He didn’t bother to put it back in place. It would very shortly not be his problem, if his parents got mad at him for scuffing the floors. </p><p>He slipped on his shoes as he walked down the hall, then trailed his fingers along the wall in a silent farewell to the house that had been his home for his entire life.</p><p>Jack was waiting for him by the door to the garage. He looked up from his phone and gestured for Tim to step past him into the garage. Tim swallowed hard, grabbed his suitcase from where he’d left it leaning against the wall, and took measured, even steps past his father, even as his heart pounded frantically at him leaving his back open.</p><p>Tim quickly dumped the suitcase in the trunk, then considered his seating options. He ended up choosing the seat behind the driver’s seat. It would keep his dad entirely in his field of view without actually having to look at his face. It was also the hardest place for his dad to reach him while driving.</p><p>Jack said nothing to Tim when he got in the car, and Tim said nothing either. For the twenty-minute drive from their house to Wayne Manor, the only sound was the engine and his dad’s phone occasionally giving directions.</p><p>Wayne Manor came into view from a long way off. It stood imperiously above the surrounding landscape, objectively a very beautiful building, but the sight of it made Tim feel sick. Even if Tim’s plan worked perfectly, he was still going have to live there, brushing elbows with alphas every single day for the next five years, until he could get a divorce. </p><p>The gates opened when they pulled up to them without Jack even having to announce their arrival. Tim ran a hand over the small rectangle lump in his pocket and focused on doing breathing exercises to center himself. He couldn’t show any uncertainty or weakness if he wanted his threat to be taken seriously.</p><p>Jack pulled the car to a stop at the foot of the front stairs. Tim took one last deep breath, then opened the door and climbed out. He reached for his suitcase, but his dad stopped him.</p><p>“It’ll look bad if I make an omega carry his own suitcase,” Jack grumbled, because it was clearly like pulling teeth for him to do something nice for Tim.</p><p>That was honestly kind of funny.</p><p>Tim’s amusement faded, though, when he looked up at the imposing building before him. Everything was about to go very right, or very wrong. There was a gray area of acceptable defeat, but it wasn’t very large.</p><p>Jack gave Tim’s butt a hard pinch, and Tim yelped and jumped back. </p><p>His dad smiled maliciously. “Get up the stairs, Timmy. Wayne won’t want to wait.”</p><p>“Yeah, and he won’t want bruises, either,” Tim snapped back, though he stormed around the car to the stairs. “Especially ones put there by another alpha.”</p><p>Jack growled at him, but on the doorstep of Mr. Wayne, there wasn’t much he could do.</p><p>Tim carried himself with all the confidence he could muster, his head held high like the alpha his parents had wanted. Soon, very soon…</p><p>Tim rapped the knocker while his dad was still a few steps down, forcing Jack to lurch up the last few steps with Tim’s suitcase. He’d barely collected himself, and was still a bit winded, when the door opened by an old man.</p><p>It was cruel, but his dad was powerless to ever punish him again, so he was going to milk that for all it was worth in the last few minutes they had together.</p><p>“Mr. Drake and Master Timothy, I presume,” the elderly beta said in the poshest British accent that Tim had ever heard.</p><p>“And you are?” </p><p>“Alfred Pennyworth, the Wayne Family butler. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Drake,” the beta said, rather drier than sincerity would dictate.</p><p>“Yes, nice to meet you too. Is Bruce in?” Jack said with barely restrained annoyance. He shot an almost imperceptible glare at Tim.</p><p>Tim smirked. It was a shame he was nearly out of ways to frustrate Jack, because it really was dreadfully fun.</p><p>“Is that Jack?” called a voice from inside. </p><p>Tim stiffened, but he kept his scent muted. That voice, with only a hint of gravel, had been so comforting the night before, because Tim had been an idiot. This time, though, he wouldn’t trust anything Mr. Wayne said. The betrayal still hurt, but if he didn’t trust him again, then he couldn’t be hurt any further. </p><p>Mr. Pennyworth stepped out of the way and pulled the door open for them to walk through. Jack went first, and Tim followed in his footsteps.</p><p>The inside of Wayne Manor was no less grand and opulent than the outside, but not quite to the point of gaudiness. It smelled very <em>clean</em>, too, but if Mr. Wayne was always coming through, tracking street grime and trails of blood through the halls, they probably had to be cleaned a lot.</p><p>Mr. Wayne swept into the foyer, beaming a too big to be real grin. “Jack! Ah, and this must be Timothy! Nice to meet you, Tim.”</p><p>It was a struggle not to scowl at that. He did manage, though, to keep his features schooled and regarded Mr. Wayne with business formality.</p><p>“Bruce! Wonderful to see you. Yes, this is Timothy. He’s been very excited to meet you, haven’t you, Timmy?” Jack clapped Tim on the back, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough that the intention was explicit. Jack didn’t pull his hand off, either, but ran his hand down Tim’s back until it rested just above his hips. </p><p>Tim did his best not to flinch, but he stepped slightly sideways to force Jack’s hand off. He supposed that his dad actually could still find ways to punish him.</p><p>“Of course,” Mr. Wayne said with an almost imperceptible edge to his words. “Well, then, we’ll get to know each other. Alfred will show you out.”</p><p>Jack seemed slightly startled at his quick dismissal, but quickly recovered and laughed. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Be good, Timmy.”</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth took Jack back toward the door, and Mr. Wayne looked down at Tim with the same slight, weary smile he’d had as Batman the night before.</p><p>“Let’s go sit down,” Mr. Wayne suggested. </p><p>Tim lifted his chin, mimicking his mother’s business posture. “Of course.”</p><p>Mr. Wayne led him into an adjacent parlor, where two elegant antique couches faced each other, separated by a coffee table. Tim waited for Mr. Wayne to sit down, then sat down on the other couch. He kept his posture perfectly straight and his expression unaffected.</p><p>“Hi, Tim. I know you’re probably scared, but I’m not going to hurt you,” Mr. Wayne started. He seemed pained by the awkwardness of the conversation, as one might be while introducing one’s self to one’s child bride for the second first time. “Let’s talk about the…arrangements…here.”</p><p>“Yes, let’s,” Tim agreed sharply. “You can drop the act. I know you’re Batman.”</p><p>Mr. Wayne’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Tim cut him off brusquely.</p><p>“Don’t interrupt, I’m still talking,” Tim snapped at him with more vitriol than he should have dared. “I thought you were against my parents marrying me off. What happened? Saw me last night and decided that I was pretty enough to be your whore? The scent blockers weren’t working, so maybe it was the heat scent that persuaded you to reverse your position on child brides.” Tim scoffed bitterly. “I’ve known who you are for years. I won’t tell you how, but I can and <em>will</em> prove it if you make me.”</p><p>Silence hung between them as even the air seemed to still at Tim’s threat.</p><p>The false cheer slipped away from Mr. Wayne’s demeanor, and he leaned back, watching Tim with a calculating stare that was all Batman, like he was breaking Tim down into strengths and weakness. </p><p>“I see,” Mr. Wayne said coolly. “What do you want?”</p><p>Tim took a deep breath. The secret being revealed would get Mr. Wayne killed, either by a rogue, or just shivved in prison, but he still couldn’t ask for too much, or Mr. Wayne would just make sure he couldn’t talk. That would involve damaging, killing, or imprisoning Tim, and all of those things would be bad PR. His request had to be balanced so that he got as much as he could, but also so that it was not more convenient to just make Tim disappear.</p><p>“You’re not allowed to mate with me, or touch me without permission, until I’m sixteen,” Tim stated. “And I want to go to school.”</p><p>Mr. Wayne stiffened, then sighed and his posture softened. “May I make you a counter-offer?”</p><p>Tim nodded. He’d expected that. Mr. Wayne would probably argue for fourteen, and then Tim would settle for fifteen in exchange for a severance check and alimony after the divorce. Mr. Wayne wouldn’t have completely lost his investment, but Tim would at least have some time before he had to let any alpha touch him again. He might even find away to runaway and hide the last three years until he was able to get a divorce.</p><p>He <em>wasn’t</em> expecting what Mr. Wayne actually said.</p><p>“I won’t touch you, sexually, ever,” Mr. Wayne promised. “You will <em>have</em> to go to school and get your diploma, but whether you want to go to college afterwards is up to you. In addition, when you turn eighteen, I would like to get a divorce and adopt you as my son instead, but whether I do or not is up to you.”</p><p>Tim blinked. That wasn’t a deal. Deals had two sides to them, and that only had one side. </p><p>“Why?” he said at last. </p><p>He heard a brief scuff of a foot on parquet hardwood, and his head snapped toward it before he even knew it. </p><p>Mr. Pennyworth stepped unobtrusively into the room and stood primly at the door. He gave Tim a nod and what was possibly a ghost of a smile, and Tim nodded back and let out the breath he was holding. Having a beta nearby to moderate was…comforting. Even if he’d probably be on Mr. Wayne’s side.</p><p>“I didn’t bring you here to be my bride,” Mr. Wayne answered, drawing Tim’s attention back to himself. “I brought you here so that you wouldn’t have to be anyone’s bride. The only way to do that legally was to marry you.”</p><p>Tim wanted to believe that, but he’d learned better than to trust alphas. That was an oxymoron, and too good to be true anyway. He wasn’t sure of the terms of the deal Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries had made, but he must have cost Mr. Wayne hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars. No one spent that much money on someone and didn’t want anything in return. He wouldn’t let himself be caught off guard. </p><p>What could Mr. Wayne possibly gain from such a commitment?</p><p>…Time. </p><p>Mr. Wayne didn’t know what he knew or how he knew it. </p><p>Tim’s evidence was a YouTube recording of the Flying Graysons performing their quadruple somersault in a show in Italy, and another recording of a news report on Batman and Robin in which Dick Grayson as Robin did his quadruple somersault. </p><p>If Mr. Wayne knew that, he would be able to hack into YouTube and the news channel archives and delete the footage. He was Batman, that much would be easy for him. Then, when Tim had no leverage, he’d be free to do what he wanted. </p><p>Knowing that made things much simpler. Mr. Wayne would try to pry the secret out of him with sweet promises and pretty lies. He wouldn’t tell Mr. Wayne the truth, and even if Mr. Wayne did somehow figure it out, then Tim had backups. </p><p>He’d uploaded both videos onto several memory sticks earlier, when his mom sent him up to pack. One was on him, tucked into his pocket, and another two were in different parts of his suitcase; in case it was searched in his absence, hopefully the searcher would assume that there was only one to find. There were a few more hidden around his parents’ house where he knew that the maid and his parents would never find them. </p><p>“…I accept your deal,” Tim said, eyeing the alpha for a reaction. </p><p>He must have been wearing scent blockers that actually worked, because Tim couldn’t smell him at all. His reaction seemed more relieved than self-satisfied, as he would expect from someone who believed that his manipulation was working. Maybe he just knew that Tim was watching him so carefully and had tailored his reaction accordingly.</p><p>“Thank you.” Mr. Wayne stood, and Tim only managed to hold back most of a flinch. Mr. Wayne must have caught it, though, because he frowned and sat back down. “Alfred will take you to your room now. Are you comfortable being alone with him?”</p><p>Tim scoffed. “<em>He’s</em> fine.”</p><p>Or should he be afraid of the beta? Was that why Mr. Wayne was asking? Had he missed something? He didn’t think that the elderly beta would try to hurt him in any way that he really cared about, and even if he did, Mr. Wayne would be mad that his wife had been touched without his permission.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth gestured for Tim to go with him, and Tim stood up and stepped toward the door. A chill ran down his spine when he turned his back to the alpha in the room, but he had to maintain a persona of strength and confidence. </p><p>There was one last thing he needed to make sure Mr. Wayne knew, though.</p><p>He turned around at the doorframe, and met the alpha’s eyes. “I won’t let you touch me. I <em>will</em> tell.”</p><p>Mr. Wayne nodded in agreement. “If I ever touch you sexually, then you have my full permission to do so. In fact, I would encourage you to do so. I want you safe and comfortable Tim. I won’t do anything to intentionally hurt you.”</p><p>Tim hugged his arms around himself and slowly rubbed up and down against the tingling phantom hands of the first man who was supposed to keep him safe. If his father wasn’t safe, why would anyone else be?</p><p>“Yeah,” he finished lamely, and followed Mr. Pennyworth back to the foyer.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Cautious Optimism</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who comments! I really love reading them! I'm actually being nice to you all, and Tim, today.<br/>Edit: So, I was reading my comments, which is my FAVORITE part of writing, when my little sister came over to tell me that she had found a bunch of problems. I told her to hush and stop raining on my parade, but she did not, because she is not a very nice person. It turns out that she had a list of errors scribbled on her hand, but only had line references for half of them, so she was just like "there's a you instead of your somewhere in the six thousand words of two different chapters." I have fixed two typos, but she's got another five or six that are floating in the ether.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mr. Pennyworth insisted on carrying Tim’s suitcase, even though Tim really could have done it himself, and started to lead him up the front grand staircase toward what he referred to as “the family wing.” </p><p>Surprisingly, he had already set up a room for Tim. Either Mr. Wayne hadn’t wanted to have Tim in his bed every night, or…maybe…no, it was probably that he just wanted to have time to himself, or maybe to bring home other omegas sometimes.</p><p>“Master Timothy, you seem perplexed,” Mr. Pennyworth observed as they climbed the last of the stairs. </p><p>Tim picked at the hem of his shirt, unsure of how much Mr. Pennyworth had heard of his conversation with Mr. Wayne, but he wasn’t sure in what universe a kid wouldn’t be nervous after a blackmailing his massive alpha husband with what was basically a death threat, both for him and his family and close associates. </p><p>He felt kind of bad about that, actually. If he <em>did</em> end up having to reveal who Batman was, then Mr. Pennyworth, Jason, and Dick would also be in trouble. </p><p>Well, Mr. Wayne would probably just load his kids and butler up into a plane and fly to a country without an extradition treaty with the United States. Tim would have had to run away to get the information to a member of the press or police departments, which was a worrisome, but necessary weakness in his plan, so that would probably ensure that he wasn’t dragged along on their escape. He hadn’t quite planned from there, but hopefully, Mr. Wayne would see reason and wait until Tim was sixteen, so he wouldn’t have to come up with a more extensive plan.</p><p>In the end, Tim didn’t know how to respond to that, and so he didn’t. He just trailed along beside Mr. Pennyworth down the hall. </p><p>“Sometimes, worries can be lightened by sharing them,” Mr. Pennyworth advised, which seemed to be a subtle command to fess up. </p><p>Tim squinted up at Mr. Pennyworth, but tried not to make it obvious. The butler didn’t look down, and continued unaffected, like he knew that Tim would eventually talk. Tim wasn’t sure just how Mr. Pennyworth fit into the pack dynamics, but he seemed pretty at ease with the new wife of the house, so he was probably a bit more than just a butler. </p><p>“I’m not going to let him touch me,” Tim said at last.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth looked down at him with the barest hint of a frown and slowed his pace until they were barely moving, and then they weren’t at all.</p><p>“Master Bruce will not lay a finger on you without you permission, Master Timothy,” Mr. Pennyworth assured him. “And he would not touch you sexually even if you were to ask. You are a child. More to the point, you are <em>his</em> child now, as far as he is concerned.”</p><p>Tim shuddered as phantom hands creeped down his sides, proof that a father’s love would not protect him from an alpha’s lust. Mr. Wayne wasn’t even really interested in being his dad, he was just trying to buy enough time to find a way to work around Tim’s threat of blackmail. Mr. Pennyworth seemed to be sincere, but he was also too naïve. </p><p>Tim rubbed at his sides to cover the hands. “We’ll see.”</p><p>“Are you cold, Master Timothy?”</p><p>Tim looked up and opened his mouth to say no, but he realized that the shirt he was wearing did leave him far more expose to the elements than he was used to, and the air of the manor was a bit chill.</p><p>“I just want to change into real clothes,” he grumbled.</p><p>“I see.” Mr. Pennyworth’s mustache twitched in an unreadable expression. “I take it that you did not pick out your outfit?”</p><p>Tim scowled, but it wasn’t fair to be mad at Mr. Pennyworth. “No, my mom made me wear it. She wanted me to be <em>presentable</em>. My normal clothes usually have about twenty percent more fabric than this. You know, so I don’t look like I belong on a street corner.”</p><p>“Ah, that makes sense. It did seem odd that your choice in garments would so strikingly contrast with your opinion on the marriage,” Mr. Pennyworth said with an understanding nod. “Would you like me to dispose of the clothes you are wearing, or would you like to keep them?”</p><p>Was he serious? Mr. Pennyworth seemed pretty nice, so he was probably serious. He would have thought that Mr. Pennyworth wouldn’t want to get rid of the one pair of clothes Tim had that “fit his status,” but Tim really didn’t want the clothes. He didn’t want the reminder of his mom dressing him up for his rape, and he didn’t want for there to even be the option of being forced to wear them again.</p><p>“Yes, please,” Tim said, carefully watching Mr. Pennyworth’s reaction.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth seemed pleased, though it was hard to read his minute changes in expression. He was an older man, and seemed to be very formal, so maybe he didn’t like the immodesty of Tim’s outfit. That was fine, because Tim didn’t like it either.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth sped up the pace to a normal walk again, and led Tim down a hallway lined with doors. He opened the third door on the right, and gestured for Tim to step past him.</p><p>Tim did as he was instructed and stepped into his new bedroom.</p><p>The room was huge, easily twice the size of his old room, with old, but clearly very expensive, furniture, and it was decorated in the tastefully drab manner of guest rooms. The bed was huge, way more than one scrawny thirteen-year-old needed, which was both worrisome and awe inducing. </p><p>The best part, though, were the two large windows looking out over the expansive grounds of the manor. He was glad he’d brought his camera, because he’d be able to get some amazing angles from his bedroom, and given that he had five years or so until he could get a divorce, he’d have time to wander all over those grounds, looking for the best shots and subjects.</p><p>For the first time, he felt a twinge of optimism. </p><p>His plan had worked. </p><p>Maybe not forever, but it wasn’t supposed to last him forever. Just until he was sixteen. Well, actually, he’d figured it would be fifteen, but since Mr. Wayne had decided to go for an all or nothing subterfuge approach, he could wait until Tim was sixteen. </p><p>Or maybe Tim could make him hold off for their entire marriage, like Mr. Wayne had promised, as long as Mr. Wayne never found all of his memory sticks. He kind of doubted that, but even if he couldn’t, he still had three years to enjoy himself until hell started. </p><p>Earlier, though, if Mr. Wayne did find all of his memory sticks and deleted the original videos.</p><p>“Master Bruce intends to let you personalize your quarters once you’ve settled in,” Mr. Pennyworth told him as he set Tim’s suitcase against the wall by the door.</p><p>Tim’s mood soured, and he turned with a scowl. “I don’t want his <em>presents</em>. He can’t <em>buy</em> me.” Despite what Mr. Wayne might think, Tim was not going to let himself be groomed.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth frowned slightly. “He does not intend to buy you, Master Timothy. He only wishes to make your life here as pleasant for you as possible.”</p><p>Tim scoffed at that, but his throat uncomfortably tight with emotion. He hoped that Mr. Pennyworth couldn’t smell his unease, because he didn’t want him to let Mr. Wayne know that he was scared.</p><p>“Master Bruce won’t hurt you, Master Timothy,” Mr. Pennyworth promised gently. </p><p>“How do you know?” Tim tried snap, but it came out as a strangled whisper.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth knelt down, placing himself close to Tim’s eye level. “Master Timothy. If you ever feel unsafe, you may come to me, and I will make sure that you are safe. I will not let any harm come to one of my charges. Is that understood?”</p><p>Tim hesitated, then nodded.</p><p>“Master Bruce is working only with you best interests at heart. He was distressed that your parents intended to sell you to someone who would abuse you, and so he intervened. He does not wish you pain, nor does he wish to pleasure himself with your body. You are safe here. He will not hurt you.”</p><p>Tim drew in a breath to say something, but couldn’t find the words. </p><p>He wanted that. He wanted to be safe, and cared for. He didn’t want to be on guard every second for the next five years, but he…he couldn’t let another alpha touch him like his dad did or tried to. </p><p>His eyes stung fiercely, but he wasn’t aware of the tears falling from them until Mr. Pennyworth reached up and put his hands on either side of Tim’s face and brushed the tears away with his thumbs. Tim was startled at first, but found himself subtly leaning into the touch.</p><p>The beta started to pull back, but Tim realized in a rush that he didn’t want Mr. Pennyworth to stop touching him, and he didn’t want to be alone again. Not when Mr. Wayne could come and find him and close the door and…</p><p>Without his permission, a panicked whine slipped out.</p><p>It was <em>pathetic</em>. He wanted to die of embarrassment, and Mr. Pennyworth pulled his hands away quickly.</p><p>“I’m deeply sorry. I should not have overstepped my boundaries or yours,” Mr. Pennyworth apologized, which was ridiculous, because Tim was the whiny attention whore, even though he knew that adults were very busy and had a lot of work to do, and that nobody had <em>time</em> to coddle his clingy tendencies. “It won’t happen again.”</p><p>“What?” It just didn’t make any sense for Mr. Pennyworth to be sorry.</p><p>“I should not have touched you without permission,” Mr. Pennyworth clarified.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth was actually worried about that? A sense of safety warmed his heart. That hadn’t bothered him at all, and he actually wished that Mr. Pennyworth hadn’t let go, but Mr. Pennyworth actually did care about how Tim felt about being touched.</p><p>“Oh. You don’t have to be sorry for that.” Tim looked at his feet. “I liked it.”</p><p>As soon as he said it, he blushed redder than Superman’s cloak. That was such an awkward way to say it, and such an awkward thing to appreciate in the first place. He wasn’t supposed to need anyone else; he was a Drake.</p><p>Except…</p><p>…he wasn’t anymore.</p><p>He wasn’t sure, but he was pretty sure that his last name had changed when he married Mr. Wayne, so he wasn’t a Drake anymore. He didn’t know what being a Wayne was supposed to mean either, so until he was told, he was just a Tim.</p><p>And maybe Tims were allowed to want things the Drakes weren’t.</p><p>Understanding seemed to dawn on Mr. Pennyworth’s face, and he wordlessly opened his arms. </p><p>Tim hesitated. He really should let Mr. Pennyworth get back to work, and it would be selfish to monopolize the beta’s time, but he wanted – he <em>needed</em> - something that he didn’t know how to articulate, but that he’d felt when Mr. Pennyworth touched him for no other reason than to comfort Tim. Slowly, cautiously, he leaned into the hold.</p><p>Mr. Pennyworth wrapped his arms around Tim’s body and held him close. His hands were warm and stayed firmly in place on Tim back, nothing like the cold, wandering ghosts of his father’s hands that he couldn’t escape. Tim melted into the hold, and cautiously wrapped his own arms around Mr. Pennyworth’s torso.</p><p>Another reason to be optimistic, if Mr. Pennyworth did this often. </p><p>Mr. Pennyworth held him for a long time, and it was probably the best feeling in the world. Some of his teachers and moms of his friends sometimes gave him quick hugs, but they were never as warm and <em>safe</em> as Mr. Pennyworth. </p><p>Tim really wanted to be held forever, but it would be fair to force that on Mr. Pennyworth. After indulging in a few last guilty seconds in case another opportunity never arose, Tim sighed and pulled away, hastily scrubbing the last few tears away with the heels of his hands. </p><p>“Are you feeling better, Master Timothy?” Mr. Pennyworth pulled out a clean handkerchief and held it out to Tim. </p><p>“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Tim’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment when he realized how pathetic he must have looked. He took the handkerchief and dried his cheeks, then just kind of awkwardly held it, unsure of whether Mr. Pennyworth wanted it back now that it had Tim’s tears on it. </p><p>Mr. Pennyworth seemed to sense his indecision and gently took the handkerchief from Tim’s hands. “Dinner will be served soon. I will fetch you and lead you to the dining room when it’s time.”</p><p>Tim nodded his understanding. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.”</p><p>The corner of Mr. Pennyworth’s lips twitched in amusement. “Just Alfred is preferable, Master Timothy.”</p><p>“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Alfred,” Tim amended. “And you can just call me Tim. I’m not a master or anything.”</p><p>The beta shook his head. “Just Alfred. No mister. And, as a member of the Wayne family, propriety dictates that you be referred to as such. ‘Master Tim’ seems an appropriate compromise to me.”</p><p>Tim wrinkled his nose. “Well, that’s not fair. How come you have to be respectful and I don’t?”</p><p>“I don’t have to be fair. I’m the butler.” </p><p>Tim wasn’t really sure what that meant, but if Mr. Pen – if <em>Alfred</em> - controlled the food, then he supposed he’d better to agree with him.</p><p>“Okay, Alfred.” Tim smiled weakly. “Thank you, sir.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me: write a short transition where Alfred is nice to Tim, then write the rest of the chapter.<br/>Other me: but what if that WAS the chapter.</p><p>I am nice to Tim sometimes, except when I make him severely touch starved, but Alfred's the best.</p><p>Despite having plotted this scene out, the Alfred/Tim hug really snuck up on me out of no where.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. First Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Two people, one bad at communicating, and one bad about misinterpreting, have dinner, and Alfred moderates. Let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim’s cheeks were burning with embarrassment. He can’t believe he’d been so babyish, so inconvenient. He only had one chance to make a good impression, and he’d gone and bungled it horribly. Mr. Penny – Alfred – was probably telling Mr. Wayne just how childish and immature Tim was. </p><p>That was the worst part. If Mr. Wayne didn’t take Tim seriously, then he might not believe that Tim would really out him as a vigilante, and he might…</p><p>Tim shuddered and rifled through his suitcase until he found a rumpled tee shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans. Put together, the outfit covered everything but his hands, neck, and face. Unless Tim wanted to use a blanket and learn how to style a niqab, he was good. Though, a niqab would probably not actually be the best thing to wear to dinner if he actually wanted to eat. </p><p>At the thought of food, he was reminded that he had eaten one meal in two days that he’d actually kept down, and he was <em>hungry</em>. While he was still stressed about other things, like not having to sleep with a superhero, his stomach had kindly ignored its own existence. His blackmail had worked, though, his stomach had figured that out and was <em>punishing</em> him for denying it for so long.</p><p>Tim didn’t really know what to do until Alfred came to get him for dinner, so he dumped the contents of his suitcase into one of the drawers in the dresser, put his camera on the nightstand, then pulled out the roll of packing tape he’d swiped from his mom’s office and hunted around the room until he found a good hiding places for two of the flash drives.</p><p>He pulled off the floor vent cover and stuck his arm down and under the lip of the floor, then taped the drive to the top of the vent. The vent itself probably wasn’t the best hiding place, but Mr. Wayne didn’t know that he had tape and could work against gravity. </p><p>He had to think for awhile about where to hide the other one, but he eventually he tore off a small piece of the shirt his mom bought him, wrapped it around the drive to protect it from the adhesive, then wrapped the entire thing with layers and layers of tape. He pulled off the lid of the tank the toilet in the ensuite bathroom and securely taped the bundle to the underside. Hopefully, the humidity wouldn’t make the tape lose its tackiness, and hopefully, even if it did, it would be at least kind of waterproof. </p><p>The last memory stick, he kept tucked in his pocket, in case Mr. Wayne tried anything and he had to run without coming back to retrieve his evidence. </p><p>He’d just finished replacing the heavy porcelain lid when there was a knock on the door. He hastily hid the tape in a drawer and went to answer the door.</p><p>It could have been Mr. Wayne, though, he realized when his fingers touched the door handle.</p><p>“Yes?” he called instead. </p><p>If it really was Mr. Wayne, it wasn’t like a door would stop him, but Tim still wanted warning.</p><p>“Dinner is served, Master Tim. If you are ready, I will escort you to the dining room.”</p><p>Tim breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door. It was just Alfred. </p><p>Alfred gave him a polite smile and gestured for Tim to follow him. Tim stepped up to his side, staying close, but trying not to be too clingy, and walked quietly behind Alfred. It kind of felt like he should say something, but no doubt Mr. Wayne had told Alfred all about Tim’s threat that would endanger Alfred’s life by extension, so he was probably going to be pretty mad at Tim. Even if Mr. Wayne hadn't told him <em>yet</em>, he would eventually.</p><p>“Are you feeling unwell, Master Timothy?” Alfred asked as they walked down the hall. </p><p>Tim frowned and looked up. “What?”</p><p>“Your scent is distressed,” Alfred pointed out. </p><p>Tim inhaled sharply and clapped his hands over the scent glands on his collarbones. “No, it’s not.”</p><p>Alfred’s mustache twitched in a muted negative expression, but Tim couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed at Tim’s lie or mad about it. </p><p>“I assure you that even if Master Bruce intended you harm, he would not attempt it in my company,” Alfred told him.</p><p>“But what if he does?” Tim really should have stopped being so whiny and questioning his <em>one</em> ally so much, but Alfred seemed so confident that he’d be able to stop Mr. Wayne. Maybe Batman had a weakness, like British accents or table manners, but probably not.</p><p>“Master Bruce knows that I would not allow him to hurt a child.” Alfred started down the stairs, and hesitated a moment before following. “I would report him instantly if he tried to hurt you. Or, rather, I would deal with the problem myself and call the police to sort out the crime scene.”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened. “But he’s Batman! How would you beat Batman?”</p><p>“He is many things, but bulletproof is not one of them,” Alfred said with a dry chuckle. “It is a needless assurance, however. I know very well that Master Bruce intends you no harm.</p><p>That warm feeling of safety reignited in his chest. Would Alfred really try to kill Mr. Wayne for hurting Tim? That made him feel a lot better. If Mr. Wayne hurt Tim, then he could tell Alfred, and Alfred would deal with it, so then he wouldn’t have to out Dick and Jason as Batman’s Robins and get them hurt in order to escape.</p><p>“Thank you, Mr… Thank you, Alfred,” Tim said quietly.</p><p>Alfred smiled and placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim couldn’t help but subtly lean into the touch.</p><p>“Of course. You are one of my charges as much as you are Master Bruce’s. I will make sure that you are safe,” Alfred promised him and…maybe, if he was smart about it, Alfred really could get Mr. Wayne with a gun if he tried something untoward. Maybe Alfred’s presence at dinner would keep him safe.</p><p>Alfred opened the door to the poshest dining room that Tim had ever seen. The room seemed to both scream and whisper wealth, with subtle expensive accentuations. The smell of warm food wafted over to him, too, which just made the hunger pangs worse. It was like entering heaven to the hungry omega. </p><p>Of course, for every light, there is a shadow, and at the head of the table sat Mr. Wayne. </p><p>Well, maybe it was hell, then. </p><p>Alfred led Tim to a table setting at the chair next to Mr. Wayne. Tim's skin crawled at the idea of sitting within arms reach of an alpha, especially one the size of Mr. Wayne, especially one who had contracted him into an implicitly sexual relationship, especially while he was still in heat. His sides tingled in a familiar sign of danger. </p><p>Tim hesitated, then grabbed the corner of the place mat and pulled the entire thing down to the next seat, leaving a space between them. </p><p>He sat down cautiously, keeping a careful eye on Mr. Wayne’s to watch his reaction. </p><p>Mr. Wayne’s expression remained completely level. “Are you comfortable there, or would you like to sit farther away?”</p><p>Tim wasn’t sure if that was some sort of test, and he wasn’t sure what the right answer was if it was a test. He was fine where he was, though, because Alfred was right there, and he wasn’t close enough for Mr. Wayne to smell him as much, since his heat was almost over, or for him to try to grab him under the table anymore. </p><p>“I’m fine here,” he hedged.</p><p>“Good. If you feel uncomfortable at all, feel free to move as far away as you want,” Mr. Wayne told him, seemingly sincere, but Tim kind of doubted that Australia was an actual option.</p><p>Neither one of them said anything as Alfred served up their dinner. Suddenly, the alpha in the room seemed far less interesting, because there was <em>food</em>. It was a pasta dish with a weird white sauce and chicken on the side. Tim didn’t know what it was, but it was delicious, and once he was reasonably sure the Mr. Wayne was staying on his side, he tucked in happily and ignored him.</p><p>“Hungry?” Mr. Wayne asked, since he apparently had missed the fact that Tim was ignoring him.</p><p>Tim looked up as he chewed a piece of chicken and nodded briefly. There wasn't much he could say at that moment. Mr. Wayne was kind of an awkward conversationalist to be asking for answers to questions while he could see that Tim had a bunch of food in his mouth.</p><p>Mr. Wayne gave Tim a small smile, strangely…genuine. Not like his father’s cruel smile when he was touching Tim or handing Tim over to Mr. Wayne. It made something in his chest hurt, and he looked back down at his plate.</p><p>“You’re going to choke if you keep eating so fast,” Mr. Wayne commented. “No one’s going to take it away from you.”</p><p>Tim scowled at the condescending tone and kept chewing. He knew that no one was going to take his food, but he was <em>hungry</em>, and he’d stop being hungry sooner if he ate fast. He did, however, slow down a little bit.</p><p>They didn’t say anything more until Mr. Wayne had finished his plate and Tim had finished his seconds. Alfred’s was by <em>far</em> the best food he’d ever tasted. It was kind of weird that Alfred just stood there and watched them eat, but he was a way better cook than any of his nannies he’d had when he was little, and Tim was used to microwave dinners and oven-ready lasagna that he made himself, so he’d give Alfred a pass on being a bit strange.</p><p>“Thank you, Alfred,” Tim said enthusiastically as the beta took his plate.</p><p>“I’m glad you liked it, Master Tim,” Alfred said with another smile.</p><p>Mr. Wayne thanked Alfred as well, then turned back to Tim. Tim wanted to look away and hide when he found himself suddenly the object of his husband's attention, but that would be a weakness that he couldn't afford to show. </p><p>“Tim, what grade did you finish last? I need to get you registered for school.”</p><p>“School?” The question was out of his mouth before he could bite it back. </p><p>“Of course. I thought you wanted to go.” Mr. Wayne frowned, looking almost uncertain.</p><p>He frowned. Mr. Wayne <em>had</em> agreed to let him go, but Tim was a little surprised that he was actually doing it. It would make it so much easier for Tim to escape. He'd kind of figured that he'd be stuck in an online school, but Mr. Wayne had said <em>go</em>...</p><p>“I-I’m going into ninth.” He dug his nails into the palms of his hands. <em>No stuttering when you're trying to look brave, idiot,</em> he scolded himself.</p><p>“Ninth?”</p><p>“I skipped two grades.”</p><p>“I see. I knew you were smart, but well done.” Mr. Wayne seemed pleased, and an odd feeling, treacherously close to the warmth he felt when Alfred had hugged him, or when his mom had told him that he had done an adequate job when he’d told her the school had decided to let him skip. </p><p>He quickly squashed the feeling, because he couldn’t risk falling into the alpha’s hand. Mr. Wayne was probably just being nice to keep Tim from revealing his secret identity to the entire world. That wasn't technically their deal, but it was probably better for Tim, in some ways, if Mr. Wayne wasn't actively cruel in nonsexual ways. Besides, even if Mr. Wayne didn’t intend to consummate their marriage, which Tim seriously doubted, that didn’t mean that the next time Tim’s heat rolled around that Mr. Wayne wouldn’t change his mind entirely. The price of being wrong was too steep to pay, his father had shown.</p><p>“What school?” Tim asked hesitantly.</p><p>“I’d like to send you to Gotham Academy,” Mr. Wayne said. “Unless you want to go somewhere else.” </p><p>Tim watched Mr. Wayne uncertainly, and tried to get a read on him. He was half-tempted to see if Mr. Wayne would let him go to boarding school, but the thought made his heart race. At a boarding school, where no one would care about a runaway bride getting what he ran from… At Wayne Manor, he had Alfred on his side as some form of protection, or comfort at least. </p><p>“I want to go to Gotham A.”</p><p>Bruce nodded in satisfaction. “That will be convenient. Jason goes there too.”</p><p>Tim didn’t really know how to follow that up. ‘Thanks for being really easy to blackmail’? Tim fiddled with the cuff of his hoodie. Mr. Wayne also didn’t seem to know how to follow that up, either, so they just sat in painfully awkward silence for several minutes.</p><p>“Can I go back to my room now?” Tim asked at last.</p><p>“Of course,” Mr. Wayne said. “You don’t need my permission. Do you want Alfred to take you up?”</p><p>He did, but Alfred had work to do, and Tim couldn’t keep him from that just because he was scared to walk up the stairs by himself. He couldn’t always cling to Alfred’s coattails. Eventually, he would have to accept that either his blackmail would work, and he would be safe most of the time and deal with heats by locking himself in his room with a pile of nonperishable food items for a week and refusing to open the door for any reason, or it would fail, and Alfred would shoot Mr. Wayne. Either way, Tim won with varying levels of collateral damage. </p><p>Besides, if he acted like his evidence wasn’t enough to protect him, Mr. Wayne might wonder if he really had any to begin with, which wouldn’t be good.</p><p>“No, sir. I know the way.”</p><p>Tim stood up and walked out of the room, thankfully noting that Mr. Wayne stayed seated, at least until he was in the foyer. </p><p>As soon as his eyes were off the alpha, his body panicked, and his dad’s phantom hands grabbed painfully at his sides. There was no one to protect him if Mr. Wayne caught up to him in the halls, and his blackmail would work, it would work, but- </p><p>Tim gasped and took off running, not stopping until he was safe behind his door and the hands disappeared.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This would have been up earlier, but I spent well over an hour writing eight hundred words before I finally realized that in order for the scene to be coherent, it would end up undermining the entire rest of the plot. This is why I should stick to my outline instead of improvising.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Breakfast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone who reads this! Let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim was slumped against the locked door in exhaustion, desperately craving sleep but not sure where he could rest in peace. His bedroom door locked from the inside, but Mr. Wayne wouldn’t have any trouble picking that and opening the door. The old wooden furniture was either too heavy to move, like the dresser, or too light to be consequential, like the nightstand. He felt vulnerable, trapped, like a pretty bird sitting in a cage that the cat could break into. </p><p>For a moment, he considered sneaking into one of the other rooms to sleep, but he didn’t want to risk accidentally stumbling into Mr. Wayne’s room, or Jason’s, or Dick’s. The Robins weren’t home, as far as he knew, or he probably would have run into them. Mr. Wayne probably wouldn’t think to check for him in those rooms, but he also didn’t want them to think that he’d gone snooping around in their stuff if they were to come home and have their beds smelling like an omega. He could also just find a couch somewhere in the massive house to crash on, but his sides tingled painfully at the thought of Mr. Wayne finding him, alone and unguarded, with not even the creaking of door hinges to warn him. </p><p>Just because Alfred would avenge him didn’t mean that it wouldn’t hurt like hell. And Alfred might think that Tim was just making it up to get rid of Mr. Wayne, too. His chest tightened painfully, and he thought of more pleasant things than being assaulted by the hero he’d thought would save him and dismissed as a liar by the only person he could trust, like the holocaust and intestinal cancer. </p><p>Once his breathing was level again, he reassessed his options.</p><p>He didn’t know if he was allowed to sleep anywhere other than his bedroom, anyways, and a slap from Batman would hurt a lot more than one from his parents. Mr. Wayne wasn’t allowed to touch him, though, so he’d probably just starve Tim for disobedience. His parents had done that too, before. Skipping meals would make him weaker and escape harder if it became necessary, and he just didn’t want to spend <em>another</em> few days with almost no food.</p><p>The bedroom he was given it was.</p><p>The room was completely strategically indefensible, though, which sucked.</p><p>He considered the closet, but that was an obvious hiding place, and when he was found, he’d be boxed in and easily subdued.</p><p>The bathroom, which would put another locked door between him and Mr. Wayne, had a similar flaw. Besides, if Mr. Wayne got through one lock, he’d get through a second. </p><p>Under the bed was an option, but again, it was obvious, and though he wouldn’t be boxed in, it would take him so long to wriggle away from Mr. Wayne that the alpha could just stand up, walk to the other side, and probably check his Twitter before Tim could get out. He could stay in the middle, out of arm’s reach, and maybe Mr. Wayne wouldn’t just move the bed, but he’d still be trapped.</p><p>As stressful as it was, the bed itself was the best spot. Though it was the most obvious, he could easily roll off any of the three long sides, and Mr. Wayne would have to go all the way around. Of course, if the alpha got in, Tim’s struggles would probably all be in vain. Still, there was a small chance Tim could get out and run to Alfred, wherever Alfred was, or at least get out of the house. Every choice made that chance either smaller or larger.</p><p>With that decided, Tim pulled himself up with the support of the doorknob, double checked the lock, then changed into his pajamas. Before he climbed into bed, he dragged the nightstand over and shoved it in front of the door. It wouldn’t stop the door opening, but it would slow it down a bit and make noise, hopefully long enough and loud enough for Tim to wake up and hear it.</p><p>Crawling into bed felt like crawling onto a cloud. Not an actual cloud, because that would be very wet and then death, but in the metaphorical sense that had been dreamed up by optimistic ancestors with limited scientific knowledge and hard mattresses. </p><p>He settled in the middle, so no matter which way he was attacked from, Mr. Wayne would have to climb onto at least part of the bed to reach him. It was yet another thing that would hopefully increase his chances of waking up before he could be grabbed.</p><p>Despite how comfortable he was, he stayed awake and listened carefully for the sound of Mr. Wayne entering whatever bedroom was his own, but a long time passed, and the hall was silent.</p><p>Oh, duh, Batman. </p><p>If Mr. Wayne was out as Batman, then he’d probably be gone until at least three or four, so Tim would have at least several hours sleep before the alpha was even home to try anything.</p><p>Within minutes of that realization, he was asleep.</p><p> </p><p>Tim snapped awake, not sure what had woken him. He shot up, his heart pounding wildly, but the room was empty besides him, and the nightstand was still where he’d placed it. </p><p>Probably just the birds and early morning sunlight, then, but he still shuddered.</p><p>Tim settled back down into his blankets and the mountain of pillows, and breathed a sigh of pained relief. Mr. Wayne hadn’t come for him. </p><p>Yet. </p><p>The blackmail seemed to be doing its job, for the time being.</p><p>He spent another several minutes lying there, and happily allowed sleep to once again begin to claim him, but then his stomach growled at him extremely loudly. He growled back, but it was evidentially not intimidated, and continued to make angry <em>feed me, fool</em> noises at him. </p><p>Tim groaned and rolled over so he could see the bedside clock. </p><p>It was a little before seven, so he considered his options.</p><p>Mr. Wayne had gone on patrol the night before, and probably had gotten in late. If hurried to get up and get breakfast, he would probably be done and hiding again by the time the alpha had even woken up. He wasn’t sure if Alfred would be up yet, or if Alfred would be mad at him for finding his own food if Alfred wasn’t, but he probably wouldn’t be <em>that</em> mad.</p><p>His stomach growled again, making the decision for him.</p><p>He rolled out of bed, dug a pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and a sweatshirt out of his drawer, and quickly got changed.</p><p>He moved the nightstand and cautiously, quietly opened his door. A quick glance down both sides of the hall showed closed doors with the lights off. He didn’t close his own door, though, so that it wouldn’t make any unnecessary noise that might wake a light sleeper. </p><p>It was a quick trip to the dining room, and then to the closed door that he assumed led to an adjoining kitchen. The light was on, and there was movement inside, which probably meant that Alfred was up and about.</p><p>Still, he hesitated to open the door. Was he supposed to be up and wandering about without permission? He was suddenly far less sure of himself.</p><p>Even worse, what if it was actually Mr. Wayne in the kitchen, and he was getting himself an early breakfast after an extra long patrol? Tim knew that some nights, especially when there had been an Arkham breakout, Batman stayed on the streets until very early into the morning. He’d never heard Mr. Wayne come up to his room the night before, and he hadn’t been sleeping very deeply, so it might have woken him up if he had. </p><p>The dilemma was solved for him when a notably British accent called quietly, “Master Tim? Is that you?”</p><p>Tim let out a sigh of relief and opened the door. He checked quickly to make sure that the coast was clear, but there was no one but Alfred in the kitchen.</p><p>Alfred was standing at the stove, stirring a steaming pot. He greeted Tim with a warm smile and a gesture toward the seats at the island. Tim took his cue and climbed up onto one of the barstools. </p><p>“Good morning,” Tim said tentatively. He was pretty sure that he wasn’t in trouble, for coming without being called, but he didn’t know how good he was at reading the beta’s body language and facial expressions yet. He might be upset but not showing it.</p><p>“Good morning, Master Tim. You’re an early riser, I see.” He did not actually see, because he was looking down into the pot as he stirred. He didn’t seem mad, though.</p><p>Tim didn’t really think he was an early riser, since he spent most weekends, and all the summer that his parents weren’t home, up late photographing Batman and getting up late in the afternoon. It wouldn’t be very polite to disagree with Alfred, though, so he said, “Yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”</p><p>Alfred looked up with a frown, then turned off the gas under his pot and turned to Tim. “You do not need to be so formal, Master Tim.” That was rather hypocritical. “‘Yeah,’ is an entirely acceptable affirmation.”</p><p>Tim looked down at his hands and fiddled with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. “Yes, sir.” </p><p>He cringed, because that was disobedient. He’d never actually been <em>criticized</em> for being respectful to an adult before, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. He looked up to see if Alfred was mad, but he didn’t seem too upset. Maybe a bit disappointed, which was kind of worse, but not mad.</p><p>“We’ll work on it,” Alfred decided as he poured a ladleful of the contents of the pot into a bowl. He set the bowl, along with a spoon and a carton of freshly rinsed blueberries, in front of Tim. “If you do not like oatmeal, I am happy to make something more appealing to you.”</p><p>Tim hadn’t ever actually <em>had</em> oatmeal, since his nannies generally gave him either cold cereal or toast, and since he’d had no nanny, he’d generally slept through breakfast. It would be impolite to refuse it and make Alfred do more work, though, especially since he’d probably already annoyed the beta by being clingy and whiny the day before.</p><p>“I like it,” he said, and hoped it was true. “Thank you.”</p><p>Oatmeal turned out to be a kind of a goopy and yet flaky looking texture, which was weird. Once Alfred had turned his back to rinse the pot, he gave it a suspicious jab with his spoon. He had some vague recollection of oatmeal containers at the grocery store he shopped at showing berries on oatmeal, and Alfred clearly had offered them, so he sprinkled a few on top and stirred them in.</p><p>He took a bite.</p><p>Oatmeal wasn’t bad, per se, but it also definitely wasn’t <em>good</em>. The texture reminded him of shredded wet newspaper and the flavor was bland with a hint of sweetness, but spitting it out would be rude to Alfred. He was also pretty hungry, so wet newspaper cereal it was.</p><p>Alfred set a glass of milk in front of him too, which was substantially more edible. Edible? Drinkable? Did things count as edible if you weren’t eating them? </p><p>Milk was to liquid what oatmeal was <em>not</em> to food.</p><p>Alfred bustled around the kitchen as he ate, somehow finding fault with the near spotless counters. It was kind of amusing to watch him fuss over nothing, and watching him gave Tim an excuse not to eat his bowl of berries and paper mache.</p><p>Tim was so preoccupied watching him that he didn’t notice Mr. Wayne’s arrival until he caught his scent.</p><p>Tim startled hard and snapped his head around, gripping his spoon like a knife. He took a deep breath, then slowly forced himself to relax and assume his <em>I’m better than you and I know it</em> business posture. </p><p>Inwardly, though, he was cursing himself. He’d have to be more observant if he didn’t want to be so easy to sneak up on.</p><p>Mr. Wayne, dressed in a business suit, grunted in the general direction of Tim and Alfred, and sat down a seat away from Tim at the counter with a stifled yawn. </p><p>Tim sized him up a moment. Mr. Wayne was clearly still very tired, so he wasn’t fully mentally with it, and his alpha instincts would be closer to the surface than normal. Tim slid his cup and bowl down a spot and shifted quickly to the next chair.</p><p>Mr. Wayne didn’t seem to notice. It seemed to take him several moments to even realize that Alfred had poured him a cup of coffee and stuck it in his hands.</p><p>Tim kept his eyes on Mr. Wayne as he worked on breakfast. His suspicion and distrust made a great distraction from the goop he was forcing himself to swallow, actually.</p><p>By the time he’d reached the bottom of the mug, Mr. Wayne actually seemed to be at least mostly sentient. He sighed and looked up at Tim, as though noticing him for the first time. </p><p>“Good morning, Tim,” Bruce said. He yawned again, and Alfred stepped over to him with a refill and a plate with two pieces of toast.</p><p>“Good morning, Mr. Wayne,” he replied with the closest approximation of Janet’s intonation as possible. </p><p>Mr. Wayne scoffed at that and took a sip from his fresh coffee. “You can just call me Bruce, Tim. You don’t need to be so formal.”</p><p>Tim considered that. It would be uncomfortably familiar, but it would put him on sociologically higher ground if he was referring to Mr. Wayne by his first name rather than with an honorific. </p><p>“Alright. Good morning, Bruce.” Tim watched him for a reaction, but Mr. Wa… Bruce was more interested in his coffee.</p><p>Bruce looked at his watch and sighed in defeat. “I have to go, or I’ll be late. I’ll see you tonight, Alfred, Tim.”</p><p>With that, Mr. Wayne dragged himself off his chair and to the door, taking his mug and toast with him. </p><p>Tim watched in silent admiration. He found it difficult enough to get up for school after a long night on the town, and <em>he</em> wasn’t beating people up and getting hit himself. It was pretty impressive for Mr. Wayne to actually be going into the office that morning.</p><p>More than impressive…</p><p>…It was an opportunity that was not to be missed. </p><p>Wayne Manor was a huge place, and his home for at least the next five years. He needed to know his way around it, especially if he ever had to run. With Mr. Wayne at work, and Jason and Dick both absent, there was suddenly no danger of running into an alpha alone. </p><p>Tim quickly drank the last of his milk. He had exploring to do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, for everyone who likes this fic, and also likes Jason:</p><p>I spent a while reading some fics to kind of recharge my creative batteries today, and I happened to look in on one of my favortie authors, Cdelphiki. Apparently, as I've been writing UM, they've been writing a fic that is really similar in concept (kid brought to Wayne Manor against his will after Batman saves him from an attempted sexually motivated kidnapping, and is terrified that Bruce wants him for unsavory purposes, massively overthinks everything, and is very mad at Bruce but trusts Alfred) to this one, but with Jason instead of Tim, it's a kidnapping instead of a marriage, and it's not ABO. It was HILARIOUS to read because of the similarities, especially when the Alfreds give virtually the EXACT same reassurance to the kid. Not to spoil anything, but there's a spot in their chapter four that was really similar to the conversation Alfred and Tim have in chapter nine. I was cracking up for several minutes, because I recognized exactly where the conversation was going because I'd written that before, and then it really went there. I'm really enjoying the fic, because it's really well written and unique beyond the funny similarities. It also has six chapters in six days, so that's great! Given that anyone who has gotten this far into the story probably likes that kind of story at least a little, go give their fic a look if you haven't already!<br/>Also, I am getting close to Jason. Give me two more chapters and I'll explain where he is. It's not, like, very interesting, but it'll be funny later.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Explorations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who comments and reviews! They make me very happy and really excited to write the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim didn’t know where he was going once he’d left the kitchen, so he just picked a direction and started walking. The longer he wandered around, though, the harder it was to go on adding to his mental map.</p><p>Why did Wayne Manor have to be so <em>freaking</em> big? The entire first floor took him at least an hour, as he noted exits and potential hiding places, but also some clue as to where batcentral was. </p><p>Tim had a feeling that it was hidden. He’d found a gym, but the equipment all looked brand new and untouched, despite how much Bruce clearly worked out. The personal gym was probably just an excuse, in case anyone ever wondered where the muscles came from.</p><p>He also found Bruce’s study. There didn’t seem to be much special in there. There were books, but the all looked like legal and financial business stuff. There were papers on the desk, but he didn’t dare disturb those. The grandfather clock was kind of cool, but the hands were stuck. Tim wondered why Bruce hadn’t had it fixed, but maybe it had just broken recently. Nothing on the first floor gave him any clue as to where Batman’s secret hideout could be, so he made his way back to the foyer and main staircase.</p><p>It wasn’t like he was weird or anything, but he was living in a house with literally Batman, and he wanted to find the batmobile and stuff. </p><p>Cripes. </p><p>He lived with <em>Batman</em>. </p><p>In the alpha’s absence, it suddenly struck him just how freaking amazing that was. As long as Bruce kept his distance, the next five years would probably be the coolest of his life. Maybe he could convince Bruce that Batman actually needed him as a partner in <em>crime fighting</em> instead of a partner in married people stuff. He could earn his keep that way, and that would give Bruce a reason not to touch him even if he did find all of Tim’s memory sticks. </p><p>Probably not, though, he realized with a disappointed sigh. Omegas couldn’t be super heroes, not when they’d have to take off a week or so every month for heats. That would be a quickly recognizable pattern, which would significantly lower the number of suspects, and could lead to Tim’s being found out.</p><p>It was a shame, though. If he’d been an alpha, like Bruce’s actual kids, then he probably would have been able to do it. </p><p>Of course, if he’d been an alpha, none of the mess he was in would have happened. He could have gone the rest of his life believing that Batman was indeed the best of all heroes, and not a crazy pedophile who married kids and then pretended he wanted to be their dad. </p><p>His next major find was the master bedroom on the second floor. He didn’t dare go in and risk leaving his scent near Bruce’s <em>bed</em>, but he did glance around from the door to see if there was any new information he could glean from the room. If he was building a secret entrance to a batcentral…batcave? Batcave was cooler. Anyway, if he was going to build a secret entrance to something, he’d put the entrance close to himself.</p><p>The room was sparse of personal touches in the room. There were a few personal photographs on the desk, and more papers. The photos seemed to be of the boys, though Tim was too far away to tell for sure, and they all looked the same: just black hair and blue eyes.</p><p>Actually, that was kind of weird. Did Bruce just have a <em>type</em> of kid he liked to collect or something?</p><p>His stomach wrenched itself into a terrible knot when he realized what that implied. Bruce had black hair and blue eyes. Dick had black hair and blue eyes. Jason had black hair and blue eyes. Clearly, Bruce wanted his kids to look a certain way. </p><p>Tim had black hair and blue eyes, but unlike Dick and Jason, Tim wasn’t supposed to <em>be</em> Bruce’s kid, he was supposed to <em>make</em> him more.</p><p>Tim had been bought as a <em>breeder</em>.</p><p>By marrying a kid who looked like him, he got a wife he didn’t have to work to earn, and one whom he could treat however he wanted with legal impunity, <em>and</em> a kid whose appearance and genetics combined with his own would almost certainly make children who matched Bruce’s profile.</p><p>In his research on child marriages, Tim had read that it was common for an alpha to intentionally impregnate their omega in the last few years before they turned eighteen, so the omega would have a child and time to become attached to it. The omega might be able to divorce the alpha at eighteen, but alphas almost always won full custody when it came down to it, since they were seen as full members of society and possessing a more “even temperament” that wasn’t “fluctuating wildly” with hormones every time they went into heat. If the omega wanted to stay with their child, they had to stay with their alpha.</p><p>He’d been an idiot to tell Bruce that they could mate once he was sixteen. That left plenty of time for Bruce to get him pregnant so that he’d have to face the choice of either leaving his pup behind in exchange for freedom or consigning himself to hell.</p><p>Tim blinked rapidly to clear away the tears that stung his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, not again. Even if he was wrong, and Bruce had just coincidentally found an omega that could birth his ideal pup and immediately married him, that didn’t change the fact that Bruce still wanted to knot him. All the pretty lies about wanting to adopt Tim were meaningless.</p><p>He had to find a birth control pill to get on before he turned sixteen. He hadn’t really thought about whether or not he wanted to have kids in the week since his first heat started, but he sure as hell didn’t want to have Bruce Wayne’s. Whether Bruce were to accidentally or intentionally impregnate Tim, the end result would be damnation to living in Wayne Manor for the rest of his life.</p><p>He slammed the door to Bruce’s room a little harder than necessary and stormed down the hall. He took several deep breaths to calm himself and remember that he still had three year before Bruce was allowed to touch him, then moved on to the next door.</p><p>The next interesting room he found was actually right next to his own, and clearly one of the boys’. It had a lived-in feel to it; organized in the same sense that the average sock drawer is organized. Things clearly had places where they went, but they did not necessarily go there neatly. </p><p>He didn’t go in that room, either, but observed from the door. Unlike Mr. Wayne’s room, he really had no business snooping through that bedroom, but it… Fanboy stalkering admitted, it was one of the <em>Robins’</em> bedroom. He didn’t know whose it was, though the milky pup scent just barely clinging to the much stronger alpha scent seemed to indicate that it was Jason’s.</p><p>The next door down from that room confirmed his suspicions. The room was sparser that the other room, and had only the faintest hint of a scent, both indicating that the room was only rarely used by its designated owner. </p><p>And that designated owner was <em>Dick Grayson</em>, judging by the poster of the Flying Graysons hanging proudly above the headboard. It brought Tim back to that night at the circus, how wonderful everything had been, and then suddenly-</p><p>Tim shut the door quickly, leaving the memory of the broken acrobats safe in their orphan’s room.</p><p>Tim started walking purposefully again to get away from the ghosts of the past and the fears of the future. That was how he found what was probably his favorite room of all.</p><p>The library.</p><p>He’d never been a big reader, but library was just so <em>photogenic</em>. The muted sunlight streaming in from the large bay windows, combined with the old leather covers and the carved wooden bookcases gave the entire room a very <em>vintage</em> feel, like someone had put a sepia filter on reality.</p><p>The contents of the books themselves were less exciting. They were mostly all either old classics or nonfiction about political theory and economics. He could find any number of online videos about politics and money, and classics are just old books whose only value is the fact that they’re old and that society thinks that if one generation has to suffer through a hopelessly dull novel, then everyone has to suffer, because otherwise it isn’t fair.</p><p>Tucked into the back of the library was a cozy reading nook on the window seat with an omega-worthy nest of blankets and several stacks of books conglomerating dozens of novels from the 19th to 21st centuries, from Jane Austen to Jonathan Stroud. It was another perfect aesthetic, and he’d definitely have to come back with his camera later and take pictures.</p><p>He stepped a bit closer and took a breath. He recognized the scent’s owner from the second bedroom he’d looked into.</p><p>It was Jason.</p><p>Tim picked at the hem of his sweatshirt. He didn’t want to offend Jason, <em>Robin</em>, by intruding on his nest, or stealing his books, because that wouldn’t be polite.</p><p>Oh gosh. </p><p>He was going to meet Robin.</p><p>In real life.</p><p>Forget Batman, there was <em>Robin</em>!</p><p>He’d seen Jason, of course, before, but that was only briefly at the few galas he’d attended. He had never actually gone and introduced himself, because he’d probably have done something stupid, like drooling on his shirt or forgetting every word in the English language, and then Robin would think that he was an idiot or something, which was maybe a bit true, but still not what he wanted his first impression to be. </p><p>Now, though, he actually slept in the bedroom <em>right next to</em> Jason’s, and they’d be going to the same school, which probably meant that they’d ride in the car and be stuck with each other for at least as long as it took to get to Gotham Academy. Maybe, just maybe, they could be friends, and Tim didn’t want to screw that up by trespassing.</p><p>He hesitated though, as he took in another breath that smelled of old books and Jason Todd.</p><p> Jason was an alpha, just like his dad.</p><p>But…not <em>exactly</em> like his dad. Jason was still a kid, too, so his instincts and hormones wouldn’t have settled yet. He wouldn’t be as irresistibly drawn to Tim. At least, he was pretty sure that was how the hormones work. That probably meant that Jason would be safe, for a little while. And…</p><p>It was hard to be lonely at his house, most of the time, because there was no one there to not pay attention to him. There was nothing being offered, and so there was nothing he was missing out on. When his parents were home, though, and they spent most of their time at the office, or on the phone, or catching up with friends… That was lonely.</p><p>Wayne Manor had people in it. There was attention floating around in the ether. Something to gain, but also something to lose. He didn’t <em>want</em> Bruce’s attention, and he didn’t want to constantly try to get it from Alfred, but maybe, if he became friends with Jason, he could get some attention from Alfred, and then some from Jason, and then some at school when that started in a couple of weeks, and he’d be fine. </p><p>It would be nice, at least, to have another person on his side. An alpha, too.</p><p>So, yeah, he couldn’t really crash in Jason’s nest, even though it looked really comfy.</p><p>He didn’t really have anything else to do for the rest of the day, though. He’d seen most of the house, and while he had his laptop, but he didn’t want to connect it to the wifi and tip Bruce off to the fact that Tim could communicate with the outside world. He could still use it for games or photo editing software and storage, but he didn’t have any photos to edit yet, and he only had the games like candy crush and solitaire that had come preloaded on the device.</p><p>He <em>could</em> just borrow <em>one</em> of Jason’s newer books, and sit in one of the plush leather arm chairs near the window, and he wouldn’t actually be disturbing anything. Jason would never know, and he’d just put the book back where he found it when he was done.</p><p>That would be fine.</p><p>Tim scanned the stacks until he found one that he’d heard online was really good. It was hard cover, too, so he wouldn’t leave creases in the spine by accident. He carefully removed the dustjacket, just to be safe, and set it on top of the stack he’d pulled the book from.</p><p>Tim curled up in the arm chair, drew his knees up to his chest, opened the book, and smiled.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. A Mild Disaster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, you guys want to know where Jason is? Do you? Nah, you guys don't want to see Jason at all. Lol, he's not actually in this chapter, but my word have you all been asking about him.<br/>Sorry this update took a while, I had some stuff come up and I wasn't able to finish it as quickly as I had intended. It didn't help that my internet went down and I could only use the data on my phone. Luckily, the next chapter is coming together nicely and will be up soon.<br/>Let me know what you think! I always love reading the comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim spent most of the morning upstairs in the library, taking his time with the book. The main character was a bit bland, and the romantic subplot was kind of forced. The side characters, though, were wonderful, and the plot and world were both really cool.</p><p>He was about halfway through when he was interrupted by a relieved sigh.</p><p>Tim jumped so hard that he nearly dropped the book and his head snapped up.</p><p>Alfred stood a few feet away, between the aisles of books, looking both relieved and mildly harried. Tim shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure how he’d bothered Alfred, but sure that he had. Beyond just needing an ally against Mr. Wayne, Tim just¬¬ didn’t want Alfred to think less of him. At least his sweatshirt covered most of his scent glands, so at least Alfred would think that Tim was just startled, and not <em>panicked</em> like the stupid idiot who couldn’t remember that there was only one other person in the entire house.</p><p>“There you are, Master Tim,” Alfred said, regaining his barely frayed composure.</p><p>“Am I not supposed to be in here?” He’d definitely done something. Was he not allowed to walk around without permission? Or maybe it was that he’d stolen Jason’s book. “I swear, I was going to put it back, and I didn’t mess with Jason’s nest.”</p><p>Alfred sighed again, and Tim hid a flinch. He’d managed to disappoint Alfred in one day. At least it had taken until the toddler years with his parents.</p><p>“You are not in trouble, my boy,” Alfred said, and he gave Tim a small smile, so maybe he wasn’t disappointed. “You were very difficult to find. I was beginning to worry that you’d run away.”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wouldn’t run away.”</p><p>Alfred looked a bit doubtful, but really, Tim wasn’t that dumb.  </p><p>“I’d just get snatched by another alpha, and I wouldn’t have anything to blackmail that one with.” Phantom hands tightened on his waist and his own hands tightened on the sides of the book. Tim shuddered, then took a deep breath and closed the book. “Mr. Wayne won’t touch me as long as he doesn’t know how I know what I know.”</p><p>“Master Bruce would never touch you the way you fear, my boy. He did not intend to before he found out that you knew his secret,” Alfred patiently reminded Tim. </p><p>Tim set Jason’s book on the table beside him so that he didn’t have to make eye contact. Alfred already knew what he thought, and there wasn’t anything that was going to get Tim to change his mind. Alfred was a beta, and so he probably just didn’t get what alphas were really like. Tim sure hadn’t until he’d presented as their ultimate desire. He knew perfectly well that the second Bruce figured out how to keep Tim from being able to tell anyone who he was that he’d claim Tim. He’d probably make it hurt more as a punishment for Tim making him wait. </p><p>It would be rude, though, to outright <em>tell</em> Alfred to his face that he was hopelessly naïve, so Tim just made a noncommittal noise and looked at the floor.</p><p>Alfred must have known what he was thinking, though, because when Tim looked, up, Alfred was definitely sad and disappointed.</p><p>Great.</p><p>Alfred <em>hadn’t</em> been disappointed with him, so of course Tim had messed that up and reset the natural balance of the universe.</p><p>“You don’t have to believe me now,” Alfred said. “But I hope, that in time, you will see that you do not have to live in fear.”</p><p>Tim picked at the hem of his sweatshirt and didn’t say anything, so Alfred changed the subject, which he appreciated.</p><p>“Your lunch is ready, Master Tim. Would you like to take it in here, or in the kitchen?” </p><p>Tim didn’t really want to leave the comfortable library, but he also didn’t want to accidentally spill anything on any of Jason’s books, so he wordlessly stood up and followed Alfred back down to the kitchen.</p><p>Alfred told Tim to take a seat, so he climbed up onto one of the barstools at the island while Alfred retrieved his lunch from the refrigerator.</p><p>“Do you have a mobile phone?” Alfred asked as he set a cold cut sandwich in front of Tim. </p><p>Tim shook his head. “No. My dad took it when I presented. He didn’t say why, but he probably just didn’t want me badmouthing him online or something.”</p><p>He took a bite of his sandwich, assuming that that was the end of the conversation. Wow, sandwiches were definitely better than oatmeal. Did they count as an acceptable breakfast? Maybe he could subtly convince Alfred that oatmeal caused cancer or something, and that he should stick with sandwiches.</p><p>“I see. I must say, I am not particularly fond of your father.”</p><p>Tim scoffed and took another bite of his sandwich, because he, too, was not particularly fond of his father.</p><p>“We will have to purchase you a new one, then,” Alfred said.</p><p>Tim paused just before he took another bite and frowned. He knew that predators would sometimes endear themselves to their victims with expensive gifts. He wasn’t going to let himself be <em>groomed</em>, and even though the pragmatic part of him was tempted to play the game to get things from Bruce, the long-term part of him understood that eventually, Bruce would demand his own gift in return. </p><p>“I don’t need presents from him. He can’t<em> buy </em>me.”</p><p>Alfred raised an eyebrow at Tim. “It would not be for you. It would be for me. I am too old to be running around the manor every day, searching for a missing pup.”</p><p>“Oh,” Tim said quietly, looking down. Maybe he could accept just a cellphone, as long as he made sure that Bruce knew that it was only to help Alfred. Then Tim wouldn’t actually owe him anything. “Sorry.”</p><p>Alfred softened. “There is nothing to be sorry for, my boy. I would just like to be able to contact you in the far reaches of the manor.”</p><p>Tim nodded, but he still felt bad, which made him feel a bit sick. He’d already been enough of a bother, though, and he wouldn’t add the insult of not clearing his plate to the long list of annoying things he’d done. Which, seeing as he had only been at the manor for less than a day, wasn’t actually <em>that</em> long, but he was working at it.</p><p>“Where do you think you’ll spend the rest of the afternoon?” Alfred asked as he set a glass of water in front of Tim. “You do not need to stay in one place, but an idea of your location would be helpful.”</p><p>Tim took a sip of the water and shrugged. “I guess the library, probably.”</p><p>Alfred nodded. “I see we have another reader. I’m sure you and Master Jason will get along splendidly.”</p><p>Tim’s jaw dropped. Did Alfred <em>mean</em> that? Jason Todd - <em>ROBIN WAS GOING TO LIKE HIM?</em> All he had to do was read, and then Jason would want to be friends with him? Or maybe they could actually be like brothers, if Bruce was Jason’s real dad and Tim’s fake dad. That would be even cooler than friends. He hadn’t been lonely, exactly, at his house when his parents were gone, but he’d often found himself wishing that he had someone older, like an older sibling, who actually knew what they were doing and could help him out.</p><p>“Really?” Tim asked in a very small squeak, which did not do justice to the quadruple somersaults his heart was flipping at that moment.</p><p>Alfred looked slightly amused with him. “Of course. Master Jason is an avid reader. As long as you don’t damage any of his books, I am sure that he’d be happy to share with you.”</p><p>“Oh,” Tim said in another, even smaller squeak. “Thanks.”</p><p>Alfred shook his head with a smile. “I see you have a higher opinion of Robin than you do of Batman.”</p><p>“I’m not married to Robin,” Tim pointed out with a grin. “Besides, it’s one thing for an <em>adult</em> to fight crime, it’s another thing for a <em>kid</em> to fight crime, and-”</p><p>Tim cut himself off before he could say that Robin was a lot easier to photograph at midnight than Batman was, by virtue of being dressed like a traffic light.</p><p>Alfred chuckled. “I am glad you have such a high opinion of Master Jason, and I am sure that he will appreciate it too.”</p><p>Alfred glanced out the window, and Tim followed his gaze to see what he was looking at. He couldn’t see anything, though.</p><p>“It is a rather lovely day,” Alfred commented, “Of which we get so few. Perhaps you should take your book with you and explore the gardens.”</p><p>Tim straightened at that. “I’m allowed outside?”</p><p>Was he really? Maybe Alfred had to come with him, but he was still pretty sure that he could outrun an old man if he really wanted to. That would make sense. Or maybe Bruce knew that there was nowhere safer for Tim and knew that Tim was smart enough to stay put. </p><p>It was also entirely possible that Alfred hadn’t asked Bruce for permission, and was letting Tim outside of his own discretion. In that case, Bruce might revoke the permission later and keep him confined to the manor except when he had to go to school. That would, technically, be allowed by the terms of either of the proposed deals.</p><p>That meant that it was not only a beautiful day, it was also, quite possibly, his last chance to enjoy one.</p><p> </p><p>The outside was <em>amazing</em>. The flower gardens were expertly tended to, the lawn meticulously short, and the view was so…photogenic. Late in the afternoon, he would have to take some golden hour photos.</p><p>Tim sat down in one of the cushioned patio chairs and opened Jason’s book again, but he didn’t read it for a while. He just let himself soak in the sensation of being warm and safer than he’d been in days. There wasn’t an alpha for miles, and he had hours until any alpha returned. The rays of the sun seemed to melt away even the memory of the cold ghosts of his father’s hands, and left him feeling more put together, more <em>Tim</em>, whatever that ended up meaning, than he had in a long time.</p><p>Eventually, he opened the book and flipped through to find his page.</p><p>It must have been midafternoon by the time he finished. The ending was good, wrapping up the plot threads well, and revealing the bland love interest to actually be an interdimensional spy, which really made the entire book so much better. He wondered if Jason had the second book, and if he could finish it before he got back.</p><p>Actually, where was Jason? Tim hadn’t thought to ask before, but it’d been over a week by that point since he’d seen any trace of Jason Todd. He’d been gone before Tim had even presented, so it wasn’t like he’d been sent away so that Bruce could enjoy, what, his honeymoon? Was he on a honeymoon?</p><p>Tim frowned, trying to figure out if moving to Wayne Manor counted as a honeymoon. Didn’t honeymoons have to be a vacation or something? A trip? His place there was technically temporary, but, like, long temporary, so did that count as a trip?</p><p>He supposed that if they weren’t really married, then it didn’t matter, but the idea kept bugging him.</p><p>Whether it was or not, it didn’t explain Jason’s absence. It had been over a week by that point since he’d seen Robin on the streets of Gotham, and he clearly wasn’t home sick or injured.</p><p>Tim could probably ask Bruce or Alfred, and that way he’d know how long he had to read the next book before he had to sneak it back into place.</p><p>Tim stood up and stretched, then picked up the book and started for the library with a dual purpose. He had to put Jason’s book away, but he also wanted to find a dictionary.</p><p>Was it a honeymoon?</p><p> </p><p>The Merriam-Webster dictionary gave him three answers to what a honeymoon was, and Tim concluded that he was not, in fact, on his honeymoon. He and Bruce were not taking a trip <em>together</em>, since only Tim had made a trip, and they definitely weren’t experiencing any kind of unusual harmony following either their marriage or the establishment of their relationship.</p><p>No, they were experiencing an awkward silence and a delicious dinner.</p><p>Bruce was pointedly not looking at Tim, which Tim kind of appreciated, but which also made it hard to start a conversation which he could eventually segue into <em>where is your sidekick because I’m stealing his books and I don’t want him to know/he is absolutely amazing and will he sign a book I stole from him</em>. </p><p>He didn’t really know how to start conversations with adults, especially when they weren’t paying attention to him. His parents had trained him to be seen, not heard. </p><p>Tim was distracted from his meal when he noticed Bruce suddenly facing at him out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to glare at Bruce, then noticed that he wasn’t looking <em>at</em> Tim, he was looking <em>over</em> him. Tim turned to see what he was looking at, and found Alfred looking decidedly to innocent. Clearly, there had been some sort of communication. Tim didn’t know what that was about, but it was weird.</p><p>He had decided to just give up on finding out where Jason was and ask Alfred the next day, when Bruce suddenly spoke to him.</p><p>“So, Tim,” Bruce started, then hesitated, glanced back to Alfred, then back to Tim, “how was your day?”</p><p>Was Alfred trying to coach Bruce through a conversation from across the room? That was kind of amusing, but it would have been more amusing if it had been less effective. He didn’t want to make small talk. In fact, he didn’t even want to talk to Bruce at all, he just wanted to know where Jason was.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he said, after an uncomfortable pause.</p><p>The silence that followed was even more awkward than before, and even though they had both started picking at their meals again, Tim was so <em>aware</em> of Bruce’s presence. Not even in the usual alpha kind of presence, just, <em>Human detected. Cannot compute. Error 404, reload and try again later</em>.</p><p>Finally, he couldn’t stand it. “How was your day?”</p><p>Bruce looked a little surprised, but also kind of pleased, which was worrisome. “It was as good as work gets. Alfred said that you found some of Jason’s books in the library?”</p><p>Tim wasn’t sure if he was about to get in trouble, but there wasn’t much he could do to get out of it if he was. “Yes. I put them back where I found them when I was done.”</p><p>Bruce nodded. ‘I’m sure Jason won’t mind, as long as you don’t damage them or disturb his nest.”</p><p>It was kind of strange for an alpha to nest, but that was a question for another time. Bruce had given him the perfect segue. </p><p>“Where <em>is</em> Jason, anyway?” Tim asked.</p><p>“Jason is in New York, training with Dick and the Teen Titans for two weeks. Something about ‘brotherly bonding’ that probably actually means ‘horrible life decisions.’”</p><p>Oh, that explained it. “How long has he been gone?”</p><p>“A little more than a week. He’ll be home this weekend,” Bruce told him. </p><p>“What about Dick? Will he come too?” He tried not to let his voice betray his excitement. That would be <em>so</em> cool. He could get candid shots of Batman, Nightwing, and Robin all together out of costume. Maybe he could even get pictures of the training. He didn’t know where they trained, but there was probably some sort of secret bat dojo lurking around the manor somewhere.</p><p>“I…don’t know.” Bruce hesitated, and Tim wilted slightly in disappointment. “He’s very busy with the Titans, and he hasn’t got any plans to come back, though that might change when he finds out about you.”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told them about me?” </p><p>It wasn’t like he had the world’s most communicative parents or anything, but “hey, I married a kid younger than both of you” seemed like a thing that you were supposed to tell your kids. </p><p>“I figured that they might take your arrival better if I tell them face to face, rather than over the phone,” Bruce said.</p><p>Tim supposed that was probably true, but that was still weird. He didn’t want either one of the Robins to dislike him, though, so he nodded his understanding and decided to let Bruce handle the fallout if anything went horribly wrong with that plan.</p><p>The conversation died off again, but the silence was far more bearable as they finished their dinner. It wasn’t pleasant or companionable, but it also wasn’t painful either. Hopefully, he’d be able to finish up and retreat upstairs for the rest of the night, or at least until Bruce left to patrol, without incident.</p><p>Tim rushed through the last of his meal and was just about to stand up, when Bruce ruined it.</p><p>“So, Tim,” Bruce said, his tone carefully casual, and Tim tensed. “How would you like to watch a movie tonight?”</p><p>The <em>together</em> was left out, but obviously implied. </p><p>He wasn’t having a <em>date</em> with Bruce. </p><p>Tim scowled at him. “With you?”</p><p>Bruce nodded. “I’d like to get to know you better. I’m serious about adopting you, Tim, but if you don’t feel comfortable yet, that’s fine too.”</p><p>Tim stood up abruptly. “I’m not going to let you <em>groom</em> me. Leave me alone!”</p><p>Bruce stood too, looking so <em>perfectly</em> concerned that Tim might have been able to believe he was worried <em>about</em> Tim, and not because his stupid plan was failing, except for the fact that Bruce was an alpha, and he could <em>smell</em> Tim, and Tim knew what that meant by that point. </p><p>Tim knew he had to calm down and get a hold of his scent, because the more Bruce could smell him, the more danger he was in, but his scent just kept getting stronger and stronger with stress and fear. It made him smell <em>weak</em>, and if he was weak, then Bruce could take advantage of him. He could feel his dad’s hands squeeze his sides so strongly that it was almost like they were really there, instead of just memories of terror.</p><p>“Wait,” Bruce said calmly, reaching out a hand toward Tim.</p><p>Tim shrieked and scrambled back so fast he knocked the chair over. “Don’t touch me! You’re not allowed to touch me, stay back!”</p><p>Bruce immediately pulled his hand back and held both hands up in surrender, but it wasn’t enough, because he’d tried to <em>touch</em> Tim, and Tim couldn’t breathe, and-</p><p>Suddenly, there were hand on Tim’s shoulders, real, present hands, and the terror in his scent spiked before he realized that it was Alfred. Tim plastered himself against Alfred’s side, hiding his face in the folds of the beta’s coat.</p><p>“I believe that the young master would like to retire for the night, Master Bruce. Stay here,” Alfred said sharply, steering Tim toward the foyer without waiting for a response from Bruce.</p><p>Alfred shut the dining room door firmly behind them and shifted his grip on Tim so that he had an arm around his shoulders, keeping him close as he led Tim quickly across the foyer and up the stairs to his bedroom. </p><p>Tears stung his eyes, and his breath was hitched and ragged. Bruce had tried to grab him. He’d reached up to grab Tim, and then he’d have touched him all over like his dad had done, and then- </p><p>Alfred opened the door to Tim’s bedroom and pulled him inside. </p><p>Once the door closed behind them, Tim reluctantly pulled himself away from Alfred’s side. He was safe in his room, or as safe as he could be, and he didn’t want to be as clingy and whiny as he’d been the day before. Or, he didn’t want Alfred to know that he wanted to be hugged like that.</p><p>Tim swiped the cuff of his sweatshirt over his eyes to sop up the wetness before they could fall. </p><p>“He’s not allowed to touch me,” he whispered. </p><p>Alfred reached out and took Tim’s wrist in his hand. Tim wouldn’t meet Alfred’s eyes, but he did lean a bit closer. Alfred put his other hand on Tim’s shoulder.</p><p>“I will talk to him. He was <em>not</em> going to hurt you, but he must also respect your boundaries,” Alfred promised. </p><p>Tim shook his head, because Bruce was an alpha, and alphas didn’t care about boundaries or respect, they only wanted one thing from Tim, and that was something he would never <em>ever</em> give them. There hadn’t been a single alpha since he’d presented who hadn’t wanted that they’d caught Tim’s scent, not even a hero. </p><p>His eyes flooded with tears, and his breath hitched once, twice, and then the dam broke. He was crying like a baby, and he just wanted to be held again. </p><p>Alfred seemed to sense his need, and gently tucked Tim against his chest. Tim threw his arms around Alfred and clung tight to the beta who’d promised to shoot Bruce Wayne to protect Tim. He cried, too, because he was scared, and because it had been only a day since his parents had sold him to an alpha they entirely expected to rape him, and because, for a terrifying moment, Bruce had forgotten their deal and tried to touch Tim. Bruce was still somewhere in the house, and he didn’t know where, but he was going to come in the night, or try to get Tim alone, and, and, and-</p><p>“I want to go home,” Tim cried, and it wasn’t even true, but it was. He missed the familiarity of his old house and his old bedroom, but he’d never be able to go into that kitchen without passing through that doorframe and wanting to hurl, or sit on his bed in his old room without remembering sitting there, staring at the barricaded door for hours because his dad had tried to assault him and might get away from his mom and come back to finish it. Not to mention that his parents, as far as he knew, were <em>still there</em>. He wished that he'd never presented.</p><p>He wasn’t safe there, because he wasn’t safe anywhere.</p><p>He didn’t want his house, he wanted a <em>home</em>, and Wayne Manor wasn’t going to be it.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Master Tim, that this has happened to you,” Alfred told him, rubbing a circle on Tim’s back. “Your parents are blind fools to have traded away the most valuable treasure that they have in exchange for mere money. Someday, I hope that you will view this place as your home, because you are safe and very cared for here.”</p><p>Tim shook his head and cried, but he didn’t even know what he was disagreeing with. That he was valuable? That he would view Wayne Manor as his home? That he was safe and cared for? Maybe cared for, but only by Alfred. The rest of it was all fake. </p><p>He wasn’t at <em>home</em>, he was in prison.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Eavesdropping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who leaves comments and kudos! They're really encouraging and I really love reading them!<br/>Sorry this is up late, it would have been up earlier, but my mom was picking me up from something and I got dragged along on an impromptu, wi-filess family outline.<br/>Edit: I fixed the weird italics. Idk what happened, because none of those were on the original doc, and in some instance, the wrong word in a line is emphasize, despite the fact that I'm looking at the line formatted correctly in my doc.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim didn’t care about how strategically unsound it was, he grabbed two blankets and a pillow, and crawled under the bed. He jammed himself as far in as he could possibly get, wrapped himself so tightly with the blankets that no one would ever be able to smell him</p><p>He lay awake for hours.</p><p> </p><p>Tim snapped awake, trapped and unable to move. He screamed and thrashed, only to hit his head on one of the support beams of the bed frame. His heart pounded wildly in the three seconds it took him to realize that he was still wedged under the bed in his room in Wayne Manor. </p><p>Tim took a deep breath and squirmed his way over to the edge of the bed. Wrapping himself up so tightly had been a mistake, because it was impossible to unwind himself and free his arms in the limited space under the bed.</p><p>He stopped at the edge of the bed and lifted the bed skirt. There were no feet, and he couldn’t smell any alphas. The nightstand was set just how he left it in front of the door.</p><p>Tim wriggled the rest of the way out from under the bed and quickly unrolled himself like a defective burrito.</p><p>It was early, too early for the sun to be up, and far earlier than Tim had been up in years. </p><p>Tim shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the night before, Bruce’s hand stretched toward him. His face had been concerned, though, not like his dad’s lusty wandering eyes, but there was nothing Bruce Wayne knew better than a mask. He’d tried to touch him, right there in front of Alfred, by pretending that he really cared when all he wanted to do was punish Tim for rejecting his advances.</p><p>He didn’t want to leave his bedroom for the rest of ever, but Alfred would want him to come to breakfast eventually, and if he didn’t go down when Alfred said, then Bruce would come up and use that an excuse to punish Tim and <em>make</em> him go down.</p><p>It was nearing five-thirty. This time, Bruce would be sleeping. Alfred would probably also be sleeping, so Tim might still get called, but if he’d already <em>had</em> breakfast, then maybe Alfred wouldn’t make him go downstairs. He might get in trouble for messing with the kitchen, though, but it was a risk that he was willing to take. </p><p>Tim crept to the door as quietly as he’d ever been stalking Batman and Robin through the Bowery, and eased it open. The light under Bruce’s door was off, which was a good sign. Tim slipped out into the hallway and tiptoed down the hall, keeping a careful ear out for any sounds of disturbances from Bruce’s bedroom. Once, he thought he heard something, but it was an old house and things shift and creak. He waited a minute, but there was nothing else.</p><p>Sneaking through the dark halls the second time was easier. He hadn’t memorized it yet, but he’d at least figured out a few of the creaky boards, and he knew for sure where the kitchen was that time. </p><p>He got over confident, though, and had nearly reached the kitchen door before he notice that the door was ajar, the lights were on and that there were voices coming from inside.</p><p>Did Alfred <em>ever</em> sleep? Did <em>Bruce</em> ever sleep? No, Bruce had wandered down the morning before as a mostly dead zombie, he definitely did sleep sometimes. Alfred, on the other hand, might have been a meta.</p><p>Tim hesitated. He could probably just walk straight in. Alfred would protect him from Bruce like he had the night before, but there was a lot of gray area between actual harassment, “accidental” touching, and just lecherous eyes. He couldn’t really have Alfred shoot Bruce over looking at him like a creep, and if he complained too much, then Alfred wouldn’t take <em>real</em> complaints seriously, and Bruce would figure that out and use that to his advantage. His skin crawled at the thought of being in a kitchen as an alpha who had tried to touch him so recently and having to endure his looks and comments. </p><p>If he retreated to the library, or some guest room, or maybe underneath the dust cloths on the tables in the ballroom, then maybe he’d take so long to find that Bruce would have to go to work instead of dragging him to the breakfast table with his hands anywhere they pleased in the name of carrying Tim.</p><p>He stepped back, intent on doing just that, when he realized what they were talking about.</p><p>“…do about him,” Bruce was saying. “I know that he’s better off with us than with Luthor, but he’s so miserable.”</p><p>Tim’s stomach flopped, and he leaned against the wall for support. Bruce was complaining to Alfred about him? Was he trying to recruit Alfred in his plan to groom Tim? Asking for his advice?</p><p>Alfred’s voice was moving, like he was bustling around the kitchen cleaning imaginary dirt again. His tone was even calming Tim, though they were intended for his aggressor. “Master Tim is certainly the most skittish of your brood, but it has been hardly more than a day. You did not despair at Master Jason’s fear, did you?” </p><p>Jason had been scared of Bruce? That didn’t make sense, because Jason was an alpha. </p><p>Unless- </p><p>Unless it didn’t matter to Bruce what the secondary gender a kid was as long as the kid had black hair and blue eyes. </p><p>That would make so much sense, though, he realized with sickening shock. He’d always assumed that Bruce had picked out Jason to replace Dick as Robin because their physical appearance was similar enough that less observant people wouldn’t notice the switch when Dick had outgrown the role of Robin. It hadn’t been <em>Robin</em> that Dick had outgrown, had it? Dick had grown up and run away from his abuser, so Bruce had replaced him with a younger model of the same toy. That would explain the scaly panty phase and Richard Grayson’s extremely outdated nickname. </p><p>If Bruce was touching Jason, then Tim was going to change the terms of their deal to include protection and recompense for Jason, too. He wouldn’t let anyone else be hurt like that either. Why hadn’t Alfred shot Bruce, if he was hurting Jason? He’d have to know, wouldn’t he? Or maybe Alfred had been lying to him the whole time.</p><p>“I accidentally tried to touch Jason in the early days, and he thought I was going to smack him around. I accidentally tried to touch Tim last night, and he thought I was going to <em>fucking mount him</em>, Alfred.” Bruce growled a low alpha growl of frustration, and Tim flinched.</p><p>That…That was good, right? Because if that was what Jason had been scared of, then the original Robin costume had maybe been a legitimate, but extremely stupid, fashion statement, and Dick’s nickname was just unfortunate. </p><p>The implications of the second sentence took longer to process, though, because… That had been what Bruce had wanted to do, hadn’t it? It wasn’t how he would have phrased it, but that had been <em>why </em> Bruce bought him in the first place. But… The way he said it, had Tim been wrong? At the very least, <em>at that moment</em>, maybe Bruce actually hadn’t meant to touch him in any way that would violate their agreement.</p><p>
  “He was very upset, yes, and you will have to learn to curb your impulses. Master Tim is not like Master Dick, and he will not appreciate physical reassurance when upset,” Alfred told him, his tone bordering on chastising.
</p><p>
 Bruce sighed heavily, and sipped at something a bit loudly in frustration. “What do I do, then? Anytime I’m around, he’s hostile at best and terrified at worst. I can’t help him be happy when I’m the one making him so miserable.”
</p><p>
  “He will understand eventually that his fears are unfounded, Master Bruce, but you cannot expect him to trust you immediately.” There was a clink of glass on marble as something was set down. “You will have to earn his trust just as you earned Master Jason’s: by demonstrating that you will not hurt him as he fears.”
</p><p>
  "And if I can’t?” Bruce sounded actually pained at the thought.
</p><p>
  He…Bruce was trying to figure out how to butter him up, groom him. He just wanted to convince Alfred that he wanted to be nice to Tim, and then try to get Alfred to unknowingly manipulate Tim.
</p><p>
  But he sounded so sincere. 
</p><p>
  Alfred sighed wearily. “If he refuses to trust you ever, it might be better for both him and you if he were to lodge elsewhere. Perhaps an omega-only boarding school would be a good fit for him, given his aversion to alphas.
</p><p>
 “Do you think…” Bruce broke off, and Tim could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “Has he said anything to you that would indicate <em>why</em> he fears alphas so much?"
</p><p>
  Alfred sounded a bit surprised. “I was under the impression that you had saved him from an attempted rape. Surely that must have been distressing for the lad.”
</p><p>
  “It’s something else,” Bruce said definitively. A chill ran down his spine as phantom hands massaged their lecherous way down Tim’s sides, slowly but inevitably. He didn’t want Bruce to know about that. He didn’t want anyone to ever know about that, <em>he</em> didn’t want to know about that, but Bruce was figuring it out because Tim was too damn easy to read. “Tim wasn’t scared of me after I saved him, and now he won’t believe that I won’t hurt him. There’s some sort of trauma there, I’m sure of it.”
</p><p>
  “Who would have done such a thing to him?” Alfred’s voice was darkened by a frown Tim couldn’t see. 
</p><p>
  There was a clanking sound as something was set on the counter
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t say it, don’t say it,</em> Tim mentally pleaded. He didn’t want to talk about what happened, and it was none of <em>their</em> business.
</p><p>
  “Did you see how nervous Tim was when Jack touched him?”
</p><p>
  Tim flinched <em>hard</em>. 
</p><p>
  He <em>knew</em>. 
</p><p>
  It was humiliating to have someone else know what had happened, and to know that Tim mattered so little that even his own father had tried to knot him. Bruce would- What <em>would</em> Bruce do to him?
</p><p>
  Alfred paused. “I had put that down to the betrayal of being sold as a harlot to a man nearly three times his age, but what you’re suggesting…If anything of that nature took place, then the road ahead might be far more difficult. It does simplify some things, though.”
</p><p>
  “How so?”
</p><p>
  “You know how to deal with victims of sexual assault. Although you’ve never parented one before, you are not completely inept in their care,” Alfred told him, and Tim clamped his hands down hard over his scent glands to keep his terrified scent from leaking out. “There is always the possibility that Master Tim is merely stressed by the sudden change, and will settle down in a few days once he knows that you are not a threat.” 
</p><p>
 Bruce sighed heavily. “I guess that’s possible. He’s just- I’ve never seen anyone that stressed unless something had happened before. I… He needs some time to cool off without me around.”
</p><p>
  Alfred hmmed in unhappy agreement. “There is little you can do about it right now, Master Bruce. I suggest that you go to you bed and get what sleep you can before you must go to work.”
</p><p>
  At that, Tim <em>bolted</em>, not even waiting to hear Bruce’s response. He dashed across the foyer, into the parlor he’d threatened Bruce in two days ago, and dropped behind a couch. His throat was tight with fear, and his heartbeat thudded heavily in his ears.
</p><p>
  What had just happened? Bruce hadn’t even known that Tim was there; why had he been keeping up the nice act? And if he only wanted to get Alfred on his side so that it would be easier to groom Tim, then why was he worried about Tim’s dad? Was he mad that Tim had been touched before? Or-
</p><p>
 He didn’t even know what to think. 
</p><p>
  Did Bruce really mean that he didn’t want Tim <em>like that</em>?</p><p>
  It wouldn’t…It wouldn’t matter, but it <em>would</em> Tim would still be an irresistible temptation in heat, but… he <em>wasn’t</em> in heat.
</p><p>
  Tim squashed that hope. It was stupid trust like that which had gotten Tim trapped in the situation he was in at that moment. He’d been so enamored with Batman, so believing of his pretty promises and apparent respect, that he must have seemed like he’d be so easy to manipulate. If he’d just listened to his mom from the beginning, then he wouldn’t have had to threaten Batman, either. He’d have just married Lex Luthor and hanged himself, or something like that. That almost seemed preferable, but not quite.
</p><p>
  No, he wouldn’t let Bruce get to him. Alfred had known the day before that Tim had been outside the door. Maybe they’d been distracted and hadn’t noticed his presence, or maybe Bruce had, and just pretended to be worried about Tim to get into Tim’s mind.
</p><p>
Tim wasn’t going to lose.
</p><p>
  Bruce really did seem intent on giving Tim some time to himself over the next few days, but assuming that he knew that Tim had been listening, that would mean that he’d <em>have</em> to leave Tim alone for a few day in order for whatever plan he was working on to work.
</p><p>
Ostensibly, “work” at Wayne Enterprises had piled up, and Bruce had been the only one who could solve the problem. That involved long, long hours; from before Tim woke up to after Tim went to bed. The only sign that he’d returned at all was the quiet snick of Bruce’s door handle opening and closing that always disturbed his light slumber.
</p><p>
  Tim didn’t really get how that was supposed to groom him. Maybe it was to seem like he was being respectful and considerate, but it probably would have been just as easy to try and bribe Tim with expensive presents and “quality time.” Neither would have worked, but Tim would have tried the simpler one first, and the one that involved staying away from his own house at nearly all hours of the day second.
</p><p>
 Alfred had warned him that Bruce was going to be home earlier that afternoon, though, which was <em>great</em>. Maybe he should act like he was starting to actually trust Bruce for a bit, then flip on him again and see if Bruce would try the “leaving Tim completely alone” tactic again.
</p><p>
Tim used the time to actually take some pictures of the gardens instead of just planning them out, explore the grounds more strategically, and finish some of the books he was stealing from Jason before Jason got back in a couple of days.
</p><p>
Tim pulled his knees up to his chest and slouched into a more comfortable position to read his-Jason’s-book.
</p><p>
  Apparently, Tim wasn’t the only one who noticed the mental Freudian slip.
</p><p>
 Tim’s nose twitched and caught the scent of an annoyed alpha. He jumped, only to absolutely freeze and choke on his own words when he saw who owned the scent. 
</p><p>
That was the best day of his life.
</p><p>
  “Who the <em>fuck</em> are you?”
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You will NEVER guess who this person is.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. An Early Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone who commented and left kudos! I really enjoyed everyone's reaction to the sudden arrival of...well, you probably figured it out. I'm really excited about this, since it was actually the second scene I wrote, and my word, have you guys been ready for Jason to show up since literally chapter one.<br/>While I'm at it congratulations to Defective Avian for predicting EXACTLY how this chapter goes SEVERAL chapters ago. That was literally the funniest comment I've ever read, because if I were to have summarized just how the scene I'd written went, that is basically how I would have done it. I did tell you that you'd like this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jason’s expression was <em>priceless</em>, and it was an unmitigated tragedy that Tim had left his camera to charge in his bedroom. <em>Robin</em> was right there and his expression was <em>priceless</em>. Tim barely choked back the giddy <em>squeal</em> that would have looked so uncool and would have been basically impossible to live down, but it was <em>Robin</em>!</p><p>Jason – or was it Robin? Was a vigilante name a title, like doctor? Robin Jason? Would that be more respectful? He’d never tried that with Bruce, because Bruce had always just been Mr. Wayne in his mind long before Tim had figured out who he was, and by the time they actually talked in person, Bruce had lost his right to Tim’s respect. Forget <em>Batman</em>, though, he was literally feet away from the coolest superhero in the world. </p><p>But, no, there were identities and secrets to consider. Just Jason, then? Or Mr. Todd? Did you have to refer to your stepson as Mr.?</p><p>Oh. Cripes.</p><p><em>Robin</em> was his <em>stepson</em>, and Nightwing was his…step…ward. If that was a term.</p><p>Tim hid his giant grin, and as much of the starstruck blush as he could, by pulling his knees to his chest and holding the book over most of his face.</p><p>“Hi,” Tim squeaked. He <em>squeaked</em>. His <em>one</em> chance to make a great first impression on his stepson, and he <em>blew</em> it.</p><p>Jason’s face and scent coursed through several emotions: shock, confusion, anger, confusion again, before settling on sharp annoyance.</p><p>“Who are you?” Jason snapped, which was cool, because Jason was a superhero and everything he did was cool, but also not cool, because he seemed pretty mad at Tim.</p><p>Oh, maybe he thought that Tim had messed with his nest or books. Tim was actually, at that moment, reading a book he’d found on the shelf instead of one from Jason’s personal stack, so he couldn’t think of anything that was particularly incriminating. The nest was just how he’d found it, though, and Tim had made sure that all the books were right where he’d found them.</p><p>“I’m Tim. Tim Drake. Uh, Wayne, actually, I guess.” His voice was a <em>bit</em> more than a squeak that time, and he even managed to pry one hand off his book for a shy wave.</p><p>Jason huffed, crossed his arms, and stormed up to Tim until he was only a few feet away. He stared intensely – if Tim weren’t being generous, he might have called it glaring – at Tim.</p><p>With heavy vitriol – definitely glaring, then – Jason bit out, “And is Bruce <em>keeping</em> you?”</p><p>“Oh, um, well, he’s, uh, legally obligated to,” Tim mumbled, his hopes of having a friend or sort of brother withering and dying in his chest. Jason already hated him, and he was going to be living in the manor for at <em>least</em> the next three years. It was going to be miserable to not just be disliked or ignored, but actively hated by one of the people he admired most.</p><p>Jason’s scowl darkened. “You mean I left for TWO WEEKS and he ADOPTED another kid?”</p><p>Tim’s eyes widened, and his hope flared. Was <em>that</em> the problem? </p><p>“Oh, no, it’s okay. We’re married!”</p><p>Jason’s jaw dropped and he stumbled back in shock. “Y-you…He what? You’re lying!”</p><p>Well, that stung. “No I’m not! Why would I lie about this?”</p><p>“Bruce wouldn’t marry a kid!” Jason shouted.</p><p>“Well, he did!” Tim hated when people accused him of lying, and this was the worst. Why in the world would he ever make up <em>Batman</em> wanting to rape him? “He bought me from my parents last week and married me. Stop being a jerk or I’ll ground you!”</p><p>That was definitely a bridge too far, and Tim regretted the snark the moment he said it. That was such a dumb line, anyway. Jason’s expression turned from dark to murderous. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.</p><p>Tim dropped his book in his haste to run after Jason.</p><p>“Wait!” Tim cried. “Wait, I’m not actually going to try to be your stepmom or anything, I just-”</p><p>Jason spun around, his fists trembling and his scent thickening with bitter rage. “You think <em>that’s</em> what I’m mad about? That you might boss me around?”</p><p>Tim stepped back and pulled in on himself. “Isn’t it?”</p><p>“I’m mad because my da-” Jason broke off suddenly, his eyes blazing with fury and unshed tears. “Because that <em>bastard</em> is fucking a little kid! Where is he?!”</p><p>Jason didn’t wait for an answer, just stormed down the hall toward Bruce’s study, leaving Tim stunned. But Jason seemed mad, and he was going to yell at Bruce when he eventually found him, and then Bruce was going to be mad at Tim. He’d <em>seen</em> Batman angry, photographed the aftermath from a safe distance. He’d made a deal to avoid sex, not beatings. </p><p>Or maybe Bruce would get angry at Jason challenging his right to Tim, and assert that claim to prove a point, consequences be damned. If he locked Tim up for the rest of his life, then he’d never be able to tell anyone that Bruce Wayne was Batman, and his entire threat, his entire power play, would be ruined. He wouldn’t even be able to get away to request a divorce once he was eighteen. Maybe Alfred would shoot him, maybe he would realize that Tim just wasn’t worth it, or maybe he’d <em>fail</em> and Bruce would kill him for trying to help Tim.</p><p>Tim raced forward and grabbed Jason’s sleeve, digging his heels in to slow the older boy down.</p><p>“Wait, please, he hasn’t touched me!” Tim cried out. “I’m blackmailing him!”</p><p>Jason paused, then turned, raised an incredulous eyebrow. He seemed relieved, almost amused, suddenly. “<em>You’re</em> blackmailing him? I think he’s just trying to make you feel safe, kid. That makes a lot more sense, actually.” He let out a sigh of relief. “You really had me going there for a minute.”</p><p>Tim bristled at the way Jason looked him up and down and seemed unimpressed.</p><p>“Yes, I am. I told him that if he touches me before I’m sixteen-” Tim swallowed hard, realizing that he was about to admit that he was essentially bargaining with Jason’s life. “-that I can and will prove that he’s Batman.”</p><p>Time seemed to freeze. It felt like an eternity and a second, and then Jason’s fist was in his nose.</p><p>“Don’t you dare!” Jason yelled as Tim stumbled into the wall. His throat and upper lip were quickly covered in blood, but he couldn’t tell if anything was broken. Jason snatched Tim by the shirt collar and slammed him <em>hard</em> against the wall. “Don’t. You. Dare. Do you have any idea what would <em>happen</em> if you did that? You’d get us all killed! You just said B hasn’t touched you, don’t you dare threaten my family like that!”</p><p>Tim felt a surge of vindictive anger. He grabbed Jason’s hands and tried to pull them off. “He hasn’t touched me because I have actual blackmail! All he has to do is not <em>rape</em> me before I’m sixteen. Less than three years for the lives of his sons?”</p><p>Jason’s scent spiked in indignation, and he looked like he might punch Tim again, but at that moment, Bruce came around the corner.</p><p>Bruce’s eyes widened in slight surprise. “Jason, you’re ear- What happened here?!”</p><p>Jason growled, but backed off with a final shove. Bruce crossed straight to Tim, stopping a couple of feet away and examining Tim’s nose. Tim shrunk back and didn’t look at him, but he didn’t think that Bruce would try anything right in front of Jason.</p><p>“Making sure I didn’t damage your <em>whore’s</em> pretty face?” Jason scoffed.</p><p>Bruce turned on Jason sharply, and Tim felt a twinge of smugness at Jason getting in trouble. Kids rarely got in trouble at school for bullying Tim for being so much younger, and his parents had gotten paid millions of dollars to sell him off to be victimized. It was petty, but it felt good to see someone pay for hurting Tim, even just a little. </p><p>Jason must have caught the smirk, because he shot a glare at him before refocusing his wrath back onto the equally angry Bruce.</p><p>“I’m making sure that you didn’t concuss a thirteen-year-old, Jason,” Bruce snapped. “And he’s not a whore, he’s your new brother.</p><p>Tim gave the back of Bruce’s head a skeptical look that everyone missed because no one was looking at him.</p><p>Jason scoffed. “That’s not how <em>he</em> told it. He said you agreed to keep your hands off ‘til he’s sixteen because if you don’t, he’s going to tell everyone that we’re Batman and Robin. Oh, and also, you got married and didn’t think that I might LIKE TO KNOW!”</p><p>Bruce’s anger faded slowly as Jason was talking, leaving him looking weary and sad. Bruce sighed heavily and turned to Tim. “Tim, what is the deal you offered me?”</p><p>Tim glanced at his shoes. Why was Bruce acting all disappointed? Because Tim was proving that his grooming attempts weren’t working? That he’d stayed away for nothing?</p><p>“If you don’t make me sleep with you until I’m sixteen, and I get to go to school, I won’t tell anyone your secret,” Tim mumbled.</p><p>Jason surged forward, like he was going to hit either Tim or Bruce, but Bruce held out a hand to stop him without ever taking his eyes off of Tim.</p><p>“And what is the deal that I made you, which <em>you</em> agreed to?”</p><p>Tim flushed and picked at the hem of his shirt. “You’re not going to touch me like that ever, and I can go to school ‘n stuff.”</p><p>Jason growled, a deep, throaty alpha growl, and his scent was all aggression, but Bruce growled low in a warning and Jason back down with a huff. </p><p>“So, you lied to me,” Jason snapped. “I should have punched you harder!”</p><p>Bruce gave Jason a sharp look, then lowered himself to be closer to Tim’s eyelevel. “I gave you my word, Tim. I’m not going to hurt you.”</p><p>Tim didn’t reply to that, but the look in his eye was enough to let Bruce know what he thought. Bruce looked saddened, but stood up.</p><p>“Still doesn’t explain where my new <em>stepmom</em> came from, or why you <em>married</em> a <em>kid</em>!” Jason pointed out.</p><p>Bruce ran a hand over his face. “His parents approached me with a business deal, offering their freshly presented omega son as a sweetener. When I declined, which I did, instead of taking my suggestion to treat their son as a human being with autonomy, they started working on a new deal with Lex Luthor instead.”</p><p>Jason paled and glanced at Tim with shock and what might have been pity. “They <em>what</em>?”</p><p>Bruce nodded. “Batman found Tim being accosted in an alley while he was running away. He told me what was happening, and I knew I couldn’t let him go to Luthor, so I took the Drakes up on their offer and married Tim the next day. Once he turns eighteen, Tim can divorce me, and I’ll either adopt him, or he can go on his way. Whatever his choice, for the next five years, Tim is your <em>little</em> brother, and you’ll be nice to him.”</p><p>Jason had the decency to look guilty and raised his chin slightly in a half-show of submission. “And our identities?”</p><p>“I won’t tell if he stays off me,” Tim promised, his throat thick with the still flowing blood. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt, but I won’t- I won’t let him hurt me.”</p><p>Bruce met Tim’s eyes with unwaveringly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, Tim. That include me. Now, let’s get Alfred to take a look at that nose.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you to Chaseha Wing for the "I'll ground you" line. That was great, thanks.<br/>Speaking of Jason, I had this fun little exchange with myself earlier:</p><p>Subconscious Me: Hey, you know how your absolute favorite kind of fanfic story is the kind where Jason steals the tires off the batmobile?<br/>Me: Yes.<br/>Subconscious Me: And you like selkie mythology<br/>Me: Yes.<br/>Subconscious Me: You see where I'm going with this?<br/>Me: ....Yes.</p><p>So, that'll be up pretty soon. Check in with me or subscribe to get notifications on when I publish other works if you're interested!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. A Decent Scolding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you to everyone who left comments and kudos! They always motivate me to make poor life decisions and stay up way later than anyone who has obligations in the morning should to finish these chapters.<br/>So, I started my teaching job at a homeschool co-op the other day. It's only one day a week, so it shouldn't be a HUGE problem, but my college starts next week, too. Updates should probably be slower starting next week, but I write when I'm stressed, so it could very well increase the pace of updates.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Master Tim!” Alfred’s jaw dropped as Tim walked into the kitchen with Bruce on his heels.</p><p>Tim would have responded, but the blood pooling in his hands was delicately balanced against his chin, and if he moved, he was going to spill it. Already, drips fell between his fingers and splattered onto the white tile floors. Really, there was an unhealthy amount of blood pouring out of him. He’d never been especially squeamish about blood, but he was beginning to wonder how much more he could lose without getting lightheaded.</p><p>Tim grimaced, because it wasn’t technically his fault, but it wasn’t Alfred’s fault either, and Tim was making him more work.</p><p>Bruce stepped quickly past Tim and grabbed a handful of napkins from the island. He stopped a few feet away, then held out the napkins to Tim.</p><p>He stared at the napkins for a few moments before awkwardly disengaging one hand, spilling more blood, and took the napkins as carefully as he could to avoid brushing fingertips with the alpha. He used the napkin to sop up the worst of the blood, and try to stem the flow.</p><p>“My word, Master Tim!” Alfred set down his work and immediately wet a clean washcloth with cold water from the tap.</p><p>Without another word, Alfred drew Tim over to one of the barstools and helped him up so that he didn’t have to touch anything with his bloody hands. Alfred gently nudged Tim’s hands away from his face and replaced them with the wet washcloth. The cold water felt soothing against his swollen nose.</p><p>“Hold that to your face,” Alfred advised as he took the bloodied napkins and tossed them into the trashcan.</p><p>Reluctantly, Tim put his own hand over the washcloth and gently scrubbed to try to clean off the drying blood on his face as he staunched the bleeding. It was nice to have someone else fussing over him, but he was growing overly dependent on Alfred’s physical presence. Sooner or later, and probably sooner, the old man would retire, or just quit like one of his nannies, and leave him all alone with Brue. And Jason, but still. Besides, he was old enough to do things by himself, without being a bother.</p><p>“How did this happen?” Alfred moved quickly around the island to the sink and wet another washcloth.</p><p>Jason, lingering just outside the door, coughed lightly. Alfred looked up with mild surprise.</p><p>“Hi, Alfie. I’m, uh. Home early.” Jason grimaced.</p><p>There was a long pause, then Alfred took one of Tim’s hands in his and began to clean it of the blood. Once he’d finished that one, he started on the next hand.</p><p>In a carefully even tone, Alfred asked, “And would the state of Master Tim’s nose happen to be a result of that fact?”</p><p>Jason flinched, though Alfred couldn’t see him. “Maybe a little.”</p><p>Alfred turned, and though Tim couldn’t see his face from that angle, it must have been something truly fearsome from Jason’s expression.</p><p>“Master Jason, I would expect a young man your age to know better than to use your strength to harm a much smaller, weaker child,” Alfred scold sharply. “What were you thinking?”</p><p>Jason bristled under the scrutiny and dropped into a chair at the small kitchen table. “I didn’t just run up and <em>wollop</em> the brat, Alf! He was making threats against you!”</p><p>“Not true!” Tim protested, muffled behind a hand and a washcloth. Technically, true by extension, but he hadn’t intentionally threatened Alfred.</p><p>“Did he, now?” Alfred asked suspiciously, and Bruce raised a skeptical eyebrow at Jason.</p><p>Jason glanced from one to the other, then scowled in defiance. “Yeah, he did. He threatened to reveal the Bat secret to everyone, <em>after</em> he said that Bruce hadn’t touched him!”</p><p>“Only cause I know the secret!” Tim protested, moving the rag a bit to more effectively yell.</p><p>At Robin.</p><p>A small part of him squealed in glee, because he’d literally gotten punched in the face by Robin. It hurt, yeah, and he was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to be friends with Jason, but he’d been socked in the nose by <em>Robin</em>. Whatever else happened, that was cool.</p><p>“No, not because of your blackmail, Tim. I only married you to save you from Luthor,” Bruce patiently lied, again. Somehow, being lied to by Batman was not nearly as cool as being punched by Robin. Maye the novelty had just worn off.</p><p>“It doesn’t matter!” Jason argued. “Because sure, B would <em>fucking deserve it</em> if one of the rogues caught him and killed him because he raped a little kid, but we all know he’d probably get away, because he’s Batman. So, you’re not actually getting Bruce with your stupid blackmail, you’d just get the rest of us. I’d be fine back on the streets, and Dick is an idiot, but he’d be fine with the Titans for at least a while. So all that’s left is Alfred, and he wouldn’t be able to defend himself.”</p><p>Tim felt the blood drain from his face, and not just because of the still-leaking nose. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d just assumed that Bruce would pile his entire family onto a private jet and escape to some private island, never to be seen or heard from again. Sure he was “threatening” them, but more their way of life than their actual lives. If Jason was talking like that, though, then maybe he’d misjudged just how close Bruce was to Dick and Jason. Alfred was just the butler, anyway, so why would Bruce take him in an escape in the first place?</p><p>Tim’s plan to keep himself safe was endangering, almost exclusively, the one person who was trying to help him.</p><p>Alfred raised an eyebrow. “I see you hold my abilities in great regard, Master Jason.”</p><p>Jason flushed. “You know I don’t mean that, but you’re, you know…” Jason gestured vaguely, but Tim knew exactly what he meant. The elderly beta would never be able to fend off a serious attack by anyone. Even if he really did have a gun, there were a lot of criminals in Gotham.</p><p>“Jason,” Bruce said, his tone even, but a hint of a smile ghosted at the corners of his lips. “Alfred can take care of himself just fine. Even if he couldn’t, all I have to do is not touch Tim without his permission. Do you think that I would do that?”</p><p>“…No,” Jason answered, not meeting Bruce’s eye. It wasn’t completely true, though, and it wasn’t fair either. He’d definitely believed Tim at first, before Bruce got in and convinced Jason that he had no ulterior motives for taking in Tim. He was mad about it too, so he’d been at least a little bit on Tim’s side and Bruce was trying to <em>turn</em> him.</p><p>“So, it doesn’t matter if Tim was threatening to nuke Gotham, because it won’t happen,” Bruce said simply.</p><p>Tim glared at Bruce, which Jason caught and returned with a glare of his own, so Tim glared at him too.</p><p>Glaring match with Robin.</p><p>No, he wasn’t going to grin, because if he <em>grinned</em>, he would <em>lose</em>, because they would see it in his eyes. Jason had just punched him in the face; Tim wasn’t happy with him, anyway!</p><p>Seriously, though, he’d day dreamed about meeting Jason for real so many times, but the ‘punched in the face and then a staring contest’ scenario had hit him out of nowhere.</p><p>Kind of like Jason’s fist.</p><p>That time, he couldn’t stop the grin, but he looked away so that no one would be able to see the happy creasing around his eyes. The rest of his face was hidden by the washcloth.</p><p>No one was looking at Tim, though, because Jason was still in trouble.</p><p>Alfred sighed. “Master Jason, Master Tim has been forced against his will into a marriage with a man he barely knows. He feels safer with the added assurance that Master Bruce will not harm him, however unnecessary that may be. Please, do try to be sympathetic, or at the very least, cordial, towards your new brother.”</p><p>Jason huffed and crossed his arms. “He’s not my brother, Alfred, he’s my stepmom.”</p><p>That was true.</p><p>Bruce was definitely trying to flip Jason to his side. Maybe he was worried that Alfred had sided with Tim, and he wanted to even the playing field. It wasn’t really evened at all; Tim and Alfred were no match for Bruce and Jason. Even Alfred didn’t really think that Tim was in any actual danger. Though Jason was clearly not on Tim’s side in terms of existence, he definitely wasn’t on Bruce’s if the alpha tried anything. Tim had to stop Bruce before he managed to get Jason all the way to his side. Unlike the elderly beta with a gun, Jason was a highly trained alpha. He probably wouldn’t be able to defeat Bruce, but he’d certainly be able to give him a run for his money.</p><p>“Only on paper,” Bruce lied smoothly. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s my son and your brother now.</p><p>Jason scowled at Bruce and growled, “Is he getting a cape?”</p><p>Tim was <em>floored</em> at the suggestion. He’d been so sure that he wouldn’t be able to be a vigilante, but if Jason thought that he could be, then maybe… Maybe he could prove that he had worth as something other than a baby maker or a fun time, after all.</p><p>Jason’s eyes widened, and he slammed his hands on the table as he leapt to his feet. “Are you making him Robin? Is that what this is? If this is about Garzonas, he slipped! I <em>didn’t push him</em>! You said you believed me!”</p><p>Jason’s eyes glinted with suspicious moisture, and his angry scent almost, but didn’t, masked the sour scent of terror and desperation. Tim didn’t know what he was missing about the outburst, but Jason looked like he was about to cry, and he did <em>not</em> want to see that.</p><p>“Jason,” Bruce said, his tone even.</p><p>Tim caught the scent of a subtle hint of alpha pheromones: calming, reassuring…caring…that Tim had only read about in books. A pang of jealousy stung in his chest. He didn’t…He didn’t want Bruce to be his dad, because he knew that was just a trap, but he couldn’t help but wish that his dad had cared about him like Bruce cared for Jason.</p><p>Jason was an alpha, though, so Bruce wasn’t interested in him. If he’d been an alpha, maybe his dad and mom would have loved him too.</p><p>“I didn’t bring Tim here to recruit him, Jason, and I would never replace you as Robin unless you wanted to,” Bruce said sincerely. “Tim was not safe, and this was the only way I could save him.”</p><p>Tim winced. There went his chances of becoming a hero and pulling his weight.</p><p>It was disturbing how Bruce’s sincere voice was so much like his lying voice, too. He…he wasn’t lying to Jason, though. Unless he <em>was</em> lying to Jason, and he was really that manipulative. It would be hard to keep up a front like that <em>always</em>, though, so he probably only lied to Tim.</p><p>Jason hesitated, then the tension slowly leaked from his posture. “Oh. Sorry.”</p><p>Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Apology accepted. Is there anyone else you’d like to apologize to while you’re at it?”</p><p>Jason squirmed. “Sorry I got blood on your floors, Alfie.”</p><p>Alfred gave Jason a Look.</p><p>“And sorry to the new kid,” Jason grumbled under his breath.</p><p>Alfred gave Tim a Look.</p><p>Tim grimaced to save face, but hero worship is hard to ignore. “It’s okay.”</p><p>Jason dropped back into his chair with a huff and a mild glare at Bruce. “You better call Dick.”</p><p>Bruce sighed. “I really think-”</p><p>Jason scoffed. “Nope. I’m saving us all the headache-” Jason paused, looked at Tim as if realizing the accidental pun “-and forcing you to do this. You don’t have to tell him the dirty details, just call him down here and let him know that there’s something big.”</p><p>It was kind of shocking how absolutely unenthused someone could look while barely moving their face. Bruce definitely did <em>not</em> want to do that.</p><p>Jason rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a few days. Half the Titans got food poisoning, and Mother Grayson is running around the tower taking care of his them, because apparently, he’s decided that he’s the pack alpha there.”</p><p>Bruce looked so relieved at the prospect of not having to warn his sort of son to expect his new sort of stepmother. It was a fair reaction; Tim couldn’t really blame him for that. Marrying him, yes, not wanting to admit to marrying him, no.</p><p>“He would,” Bruce granted. “I’ll call him and tell him to come down in a few days.”</p><p>The phrasing of that sentence left two distinct options: option a) Bruce would call Dick and invite him to come down to the manor at his leisure; option b) Bruce, in a few days, would call Dick and tell him to come down.</p><p>Judging by the look on Jason’s face, he’d noticed the loophole too.</p><p>“You should go do that <em>now</em>, before I punch your teeth out.”</p><p>Jason was really talking like that? To Batman? Tim’s parents would have slapped him for that, even before he presented. Bruce did nothing but look displeased, and not even with Jason, more at the situation.</p><p>“Given how he responded last time I brought home a stray, I have reason to be cautious,” Bruce pointed out, and Jason laughed a bit mirthlessly.</p><p>“<em>I</em> was a scrappy little street alpha who stole your tires, his name, and his place as the pup of the pack,” Jason told Bruce matter-of-factly. “Timmy here is a baby omega with crappy parents, a sob story, and a desperate need for hugs. Dick will like him just fine.”</p><p>Bruce nodded with easy acceptance, but Tim flinched like he’d been stabbed. His heart pounded, and his insides tied themselves into knots as phantom hands grabbed his neck, his sides, his waistband. His scent, thick with fear and determination, was betraying his distress because he was <em>stupid</em>, but no, no, no, that’s wasn’t allowed to happen.</p><p>“He’s not allowed to touch me!” Tim yanked down the washcloth so he could be sure Bruce understood him. “No alphas! Not now, not ever- The deal applies to them too! No one’s allowed to touch me, or I’ll tell!”</p><p>He <em>wanted</em> to be hugged by Dick Grayson. He wanted the original Robin to be just as fun and energetic as Tim had imagine, but he couldn’t let an adult alpha get so close and <em>physical</em></p><p>Jason’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bruce nudged Jason’s shoulder lightly.</p><p>“261a, suspected 261,” Bruce said lowly, not low enough that he could have meant to keep Tim from hearing, but enough that it was clearly just for Jason.</p><p>Tim didn’t know what that meant; some kind of police or batcode, but he didn’t like the secret messages. He looked between the two, waiting for any hint of danger.</p><p>Bruce turned to Tim, again projecting those calming pheromones. Tim slapped the washcloth back over his mouth and nose to keep Bruce from being able to get in his head and turn his own brain against him.</p><p>“B, you’re freaking him out,” Jason warned, suddenly more calm and serious. Whatever 261 was, it certainly meant something to Jason to change his whole demeanor like that from angry and obtuse to quiet and observant.</p><p>The pheromones stopped and began to disperse, but Bruce held his hands in a placating gesture. “Dick would never harm you, but I will warn him to respect your boundaries. No one’s going to touch you, Tim.”</p><p>“You’re lying!” Tim snapped, because he was so tired of hearing that same lie over and over. It didn’t get <em>more</em> believable the more he said it. “Leave me alone.”</p><p>Bruce sighed and walked to the door. “I guess I’ll call Dick right now, then.”</p><p>Bruce’s retreating footsteps faded in a minute or so, and Tim finally let himself breathe a bit more easily. Jason hadn’t been turned yet.</p><p>Alfred took the bloody washcloth, since the blood had stopped, and left the room in an opposite direction, presumably to take it to the washing machine. It sorely needed it, but it had left Tim alone with an alpha he doesn’t know well and who doesn’t like him.</p><p>Jason and Tim both sat there, the silence stretching endlessly. How did the conversation go from there? From the wild roller coaster that had been the last half hour? It was certainly <em>cool</em> to have been punched by Robin, which no one in his class at school could say, but it was hardly a good ice breaker. Nose breaker, maybe.</p><p>Jason caved first.</p><p>“So, read any good books lately?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me: I HAVE SPENT THREE HOURS ON THIS AND I HAVE LIKE 600 WORDS WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?????!!!!!<br/>Smart Me: Okay, but what if you have the same scene, but like, five minutes earlier?<br/>Me: That....fixes all my problems, where have you been?</p><p> </p><p>Jason, who has limited knowledge on what Alfred did before coming to America: Alfred is an adorable frail old man who makes me cookies and gives me affection in a very strange and British, but still appreciated, manner, so let's not get him killed.<br/>Tim, who likes hugs and also has no knowledge on what Alfred did before coming to America: Omg, you're right, what was I thinking?</p><p>Edit: Penal code 261 is rape, 261a is attempted rape, according to my research.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Truce?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wrote a line where someone mentioned religion, and now I'm curious. Jesus Christ: alpha, beta, or omega?<br/>Thank you to everyone who leaves comments! They're so motivational, and 100% of the reason I stay up until six for these chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Tim a long moment to process the question. Was that really Jason’s idea of an ice breaker? Though, to be fair, Tim’s idea of an ice breaker was complete and total silence, so he supposed Jason won.</p><p>“Um, yes?” </p><p>Jason nodded, as awkwardly stiff as Tim felt. “Ah. That’s cool.”</p><p>They sat in silence for another minute before Alfred sighed wearily from the other side of the kitchen.</p><p>“Why don’t you tell Master Jason about the novel you told me about yesterday, Master Tim,” Alfred suggested pointedly.</p><p>Ah, yes. That was how conversations worked. Talking, exchanging information. Yup. Wisdom just comes with age, doesn’t it? That would definitely explain why Alfred was the only one of the three of them who had any idea how to follow up.</p><p>“Oh. Um, I kind of stole <em>Beyond our Eyes</em> from your pile of books,” Tim admitted, blushing. Was Jason going to be mad? He had kind of made a career out of beating up people who stole things. Well, maybe not a <em>career</em>, but certainly an internship. Still, that was plenty qualification to be mad.</p><p>Jason just nodded his understanding, then frowned suddenly. Oh, it was coming. Robin punch, round two. Would Alfred chew him out that time, or would he figure that admitting to a minor misdemeanor was justification enough?</p><p>Oh, well. Getting punched by Robin was still cool.</p><p>“You didn’t mess with the blankets in the window seat, did you?”</p><p>…His nest? That was all he was worried about? Tim breathed a small sigh of relief and shook his head.</p><p>Of course Tim hadn’t. He didn’t know why an alpha Jason’s age had a nest, but he knew better than to touch it. Nests were safe spaces, no matter whose they were, and weren’t to be messed with. He’d already been the sudden stepmother who was stealing his books; he didn’t need to be a surprise mom who got into Jason’s nest too.</p><p>“Good. What did you think of it?”</p><p>It took Tim a moment to realize that Jason meant the book, and not the nest. <em>It’s very…blankety</em> died on his lips. </p><p>“It was really good. I thought that-” Tim’s eyes widened. “Have you <em>read</em> it? I don’t want to spoil anything.”</p><p>Jason scoffed and leaned against the table with his cheek on his fist. “I have read that book three times. The bit where the alien bites the politician’s head off is the best thing published in the last thirty years.”</p><p>Tim snorted and rolled his eyes. “I liked the riddles better. Gore is easy. It was amazing just how obvious the answers were, but how hard it was to see the answer coming. I-”</p><p>Tim cut off and blushed, suddenly realizing that <em>oh crap I’m nerding out to Robin</em>. It was like he’d just forgotten for a minute there that Jason wasn’t Ives, or one of his other dork friends who would listen to him ramble on about the smallest details and subtleties of whatever had caught his fancy. </p><p>Jason didn’t seem annoyed, though, and leaned forward in interest. Tim hesitated before mirroring Jason’s posture. There were still a few feet between them, and an inch or two wouldn’t make it easier for Jason to grab. Besides, Jason was, at the very least, against Bruce raping Tim. </p><p>Though, he said multiple times that he objected to Bruce mating with a kid. Maybe Jason would be okay with taking Tim for himself, since they were closer in age. </p><p>Tim leaned back and rubbed at his sides.</p><p>He needed to calm down. Bruce wouldn’t let Jason dispute his claim to Tim. Even though Tim had declared himself off limits, Bruce still was his husband, and wouldn’t want any other alphas getting their hands on Tim. Jason would pay dearly if he tried anything.</p><p>In a strange way, that was comforting. He had to defend himself from Bruce. Batman would defend him from everyone else. The lesser of two evils, and also the more manageable. </p><p><em>An ounce of prevention is with a pound of cure.</em> Bruce would only punish Jason after he'd hurt Tim, though. That meant that he was trusting an evidentiary impulsive and short sighted to know how much touching Tim would cost. </p><p> “Have you read the next book?” Jason asked, oblivious to Tim’s fear.  </p><p>Tim frowned, thinking. “No, I didn’t see it in the library.”</p><p>“It’s in my room. I’ll get it for you later. Have you read any other books?”</p><p>“Well, when I was little, I read Hop on Pop,” Tim offered, mostly teasing, but also trying to cover for the fact that he had read more books in the last couple days (3 ½) than he had read in the last few years. Even for his summer reading, he’d just read the sparknotes. There just always was more to do than read, between school, taking care of his house, and chasing vigilantes around Gotham that he never really had time to read. </p><p>Suddenly, there was nothing to do, and he’d been bored out of his mind. There wasn’t likely to be anything to do – at least not in a non-euphemistic way – for the next five years, so it wasn’t a lie so much as portraying the future in the present as though they are one.</p><p>Jason clearly loved books, too. It was painfully obvious, given that his carefully woven nest was in the library and not in his bedroom. Tim also remembered that it had been when he talked about the library that Alfred had said that Jason would like him.</p><p>Clearly, he had an in. </p><p>“Finally, someone with taste,” Jason continued. “Dick’s too much of a hyper bimbo to read, and B probably hasn’t read something not having to do with business or horrific crime in the last ten years.”</p><p>“A billboard,” Tim suggested, because. Technically. But was he on joking terms with Jason? His aching nose proved just how much Jason liked him.</p><p>Jason snorted. “Still business related.”</p><p>Apparently, they were on joking terms. </p><p>“A religious billboard.”</p><p>Jason considered, then shrugged. “Fair point. Anyway, Alfred likes to read, but he draws the line at blood and gore. At least Dick will watch the movie with me.”</p><p>“Movie?” Tim asked. He vaguely remembered a trailer for a film adaptation of <em>Beyond Our Eyes</em>. It had looked pretty good; nice angles, good filters for the tone and themes, high quality cinematography. </p><p>Jason nodded. “It’s actually really good. Have you seen it? It’s not, like, word for word or anything, but the main theme and the characters were both really well represented.”</p><p>Tim shook his head. </p><p>“I haven’t, no,” Tim confessed. Surely that much wasn’t going to give away his cover, right? Book lovers hated book movies with a burning passion, he was pretty sure. “I was afraid they’d butcher it.”</p><p>Except, Tim hadn’t read the book yet and wouldn’t have known if they’d butchered it. That had been a bad lie, and he knew it the moment he said it. He should have said that he wanted to read the book first so that he didn’t get spoilers.</p><p>Jason made a face like he might have caught the slip, but he didn’t call Tim on it. “Do you want to watch it now?”</p><p>Tim nodded, eager to distract from his mistake. “Sure, that sounds fun.”</p><p>Jason grinned, but it looked a bit forced. “Hey, Alfie, can we have some popcorn?”</p><p>Alfred, chopping his vegetables again, sighed wearily. “I suppose, with Master Dick absent, the popcorn might actually stay in the bowl?”</p><p>Jason rolled his eyes. “If it stays in the bowl, how are you supposed to eat it?”</p><p>Alfred fixed Jason with a look that was its own answer. Jason grinned, for real that time, and bared his neck in a mocking show of submission.</p><p>“Okay, okay, no throwing the popcorn, I get it.” </p><p>Tim’s jaw dropped. They’d thrown popcorn? His admiration of them plummeted. Did they know how much of a pain that was to clean up? Vacuum cleaners couldn’t always pick up the larger pieces, which meant cleaning by <em>hand</em>. His dad had once spilled a bowl of popcorn in the living room when he left to take a phone call, and then his mom had come in and gotten mad at Tim about it. It had taken <em>forever</em> to get the floor to her satisfaction. He could only imagine how long it would take Alfred, who was such a neat freak that he tried to clean up imaginary dirt on the counters.</p><p>Alfred smiled at his expression. “It appears Master Tim will be a far better influence on you than Master Dick. Go start the film; I’ll make you popcorn.” </p><p>“Thanks, Alfred, you’re the best!” Jason was about to stand up, then paused and glanced at Tim. “Are you okay with this?”</p><p>Tim paused too. “With what?”</p><p>Jason shrugged. “Being alone with me? I can just set up the movie for you to watch by yourself, if you’d rather.”</p><p>Tim watched Jason’s face carefully. Why was Jason asking that? Did he really care about whether or not Tim felt safe, or was it just a mind game?  Tim didn’t know what to think, but nothing in Jason’s expression was gross. Jason was passionate, quick to defend the people he cared about, but he wasn’t actually…dangerous. Not in the way Tim actually feared, at least. </p><p>“It’s fine,” Tim mumbled. “I don’t mind.”</p><p>He had minded when it was Bruce. Bruce was different, though. Jason was a kid, and they weren’t married. He probably couldn’t actually fight Robin, but he would at least have a better chance of fighting him than Batman. Jason seemed so much more honest, too. Bruce had too many masks for Tim to be able to trust him or his pretty words.</p><p>Jason rose to his feet. “Okay, then. Follow me, Timmers.”</p><p>Jason led Tim to a cozy living room, with a large television, a couple armchairs, and a large plush sofa. It was dark and isolated, and Tim shuddered to think that Bruce had wanted to bring him in here, alone, a few days ago. His father’s phantom hands pulled at an elastic waistband that wasn’t there anymore and tried to pull it away as Bruce’s invitation rang in his ears.</p><p>“Go ahead and pick a spot. I’ll get the movie set up.”</p><p>As he was talking, Jason pulled a blanket off the back of one of the armchairs and tossed it at Tim without looking back. </p><p>Tim caught it in confusion, but slowly lowered himself against one of the arms of the couch. “What’s this for?” </p><p>Jason turned and raised an eyebrow. “You’re cold, aren’t you? You keep shaking and rubbing your sides.”</p><p>Tim stiffened, which probably just made him look <em>more</em> scared. Jason had noticed? Oh, crap, he looked like an idiot who couldn’t just deal with his own stupid head being scared without making everyone else have to notice. Nothing had even <em>happened</em> with his dad; why couldn’t his brain just accept that and stop bringing it up? Instead, it wanted to hug Alfred, to sit and watch endless movies with Jason. He wanted to be able to trust alphas, but he just couldn’t. </p><p>Jason didn’t know that, though. </p><p>“Yeah, freezing, totally. Sorry,” Tim apologized, sinking down into the couch and pretending to be very, <em>very</em> interested in adjusting his blanket. Maybe he could pass it off as nesting? He didn’t know much about nesting, though; clearly not as much as Jason did.</p><p>Jason frowned, but didn’t say anything. Had he somehow figured out that Tim was lying? How? His acting should have been perfect. He was probably just overanalyzing things. Yeah, that was it.</p><p>Jason snatched the remote from the top of the cabinet, walked over to the couch, and dropped on the opposite end. He didn’t look at Tim or try to get closer to him.</p><p>It was…nice. It was a bit strange, though, that Jason was suddenly respecting his boundaries and interested in him. That code that Bruce had told Jason, 341? 631? Whatever it was, Tim wanted to know what it was, and why it had made Jason so attentive all of the sudden.</p><p>The movie started to play. It was interesting, and the casting was phenomenal, but it had been a stressful last few days, and Tim found himself yawning only twenty minutes in. </p><p>By thirty minutes, he was beginning to realize that “nodding” off was a literal description as he jerked his head up after a blink lasted a few seconds too long and his head dipped to his chest. </p><p>Tim knew better. He really did. He should have been more alert, more aware of his surroundings, but he was bundled up, warm, and…safe. Jason wasn’t going to hurt him. Tim was sure of that, and so it didn’t really matter if Tim just closed his eyes for a…</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please excuse any typos, I have made poor life decisions today and I'm probably a bit drunk. I have a rare medical condition that makes me drunk when I have certain carbohydrates (for me it's lactose) because my body metabolizes the sugar as alcohol. Because this is an atypical case of auto brewery syndrome, I can actually take pills for lactose intolerance and that's usually enough (sometimes I don't take enough and I still get tipsy) to prevent a reaction, and I decided to make hot chocolate. I looked in the fridge of the people I'm house sitting for and found a maple syrup container. I meant to drizzle a little in, but ended up tipping in about a shot's worth of whatever homemade purple alcohol was inside. I can't take pills for that, and ABS makes me way more sensitive to alcohol than normal people. I think I was a bit tipsy at the beginning of the first draft, but I should be fine now.<br/>TL,DR: I have the stupidest body ever that makes me drunk on milk, and I accidentally spiked my hot chocolate.<br/>And you people thought that not sleeping was the worst I could wreck my health to update! You severely underestimate just how much I love comments.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. A Slightly Less Awkward Family Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry that this took so long to get up! I've just started school, and I'm getting things settled out.<br/>Thank you to everyone who leaves comments and kudos! As much as I say that I live off your suffering, I'm really fueled by all the positive feedback you guys leave!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim woke slowly, draped over the arm of his couch. His ribs were sore from the pressure and awkward position, but despite the discomfort, he felt like he’d slept well for the first time in a long time. There had been some sort of reason he hadn’t been sleeping, but the world was too blissfully fuzzy for anything to really matter. He just wanted to go back to sleep and forget all about the stupid nightmare he’d had where he was an omega and his parents made him marry Batman. His nose still ached from the memory of dream-Robin clocking him in the face.</p><p>Tim inhaled deeply and nestled into a more comfortable position. The world was just starting to fade from black to the abyssal cavern of sleep when he realized something.</p><p>The couch he was leaning on was leather. The couches at his house were all cloth. Where was he, and what was that-</p><p><em>Alpha</em>. </p><p>Tim could smell an alpha, nearby, only feet away from him. It wasn’t his dad. </p><p>It hadn’t been a dream. </p><p>Tim was married to Batman.</p><p>Every muscle in Tim’s body screamed at him to jump up and run away, but he forced himself to keep his breathing level and his body relaxed. </p><p>Which alpha was it? He could smell a mix of alpha, omega, and milky pup, but he wasn’t sure if the pup smell was just him, or if it was Jason. </p><p>Which one would even be safer? Jason, he could tell from trailing the bats, was impulsive and didn’t always think things through. What if Tim had horribly miscalculated, and Jason had brought him into the room for the same reason Bruce had a few days before? Had Jason drugged the popcorn? </p><p>No, Alfred had brought that directly to them, so Jason wouldn’t have had a chance. Could you even drug popcorn? Weren’t the roofie drugs usually liquid?</p><p>Tim mentally cursed himself for his lack of knowledge about date-rape drugs. </p><p>Tim hadn’t been sleeping well the past few days. though. It was no wonder he’d fallen asleep as soon as he was in a dark, warm, theoretically safe environment. He couldn’t hear the movie playing anymore, so either Jason had watched the entire thing and hadn’t touched him the whole time, or Jason had considerately turned off the TV to let him sleep. Turning off the TV, or waiting until it had finished playing, would have been a strategic blunder on Jason’s part if he’d actually had unsavory motives. Any small noise as he crept up on Tim would have been covered by the sounds from the movie.</p><p>If it was Jason, then he was safe. </p><p>But Jason could have left the room after the movie was finished, leaving Tim alone for Bruce to find. If it were Bruce, then that would explain why Tim couldn’t hear him, just smell that sickening alpha musk. Bruce had snuck up on him and was going to grab him while he was vulnerable and take him away from his protectors. Jason and Alfred would buy that Tim had run away; Bruce could just steal Tim away to some cell or other property and imprison him there, far away from any methods of communication or his evidence.</p><p>Damnit, that would be a <em>perfect</em> way to get around Tim’s threats of blackmail, and Jason and Alfred’s threats! Tim’s heart pounded and he fought the urge to leap up and make a mad dash for the door, but the alpha he could smell was between him and the door. </p><p>There was no way to keep the fear from his scent, but he fought it as hard as he could. Hopefully, whoever was with him would write it off as a nightmare. </p><p>If the alpha were Bruce, then he needed as much time as possible to figure out a way around him, or even just a way to stay out of his reach long enough to scream for Jason and Alfred. He focused on mentally recreating the room: the recliner, the loveseat, the television stand, the basket of blankets. There wasn’t much for him to use there. There weren’t any windows to jump through, and if Bruce thought to close the door, then his screaming would be muffled too. A sting of helplessness stabbed his heart. For his escape to succeed, he would need far more luck than the universe had ever been happy to give him.</p><p>There was a long silence as Tim waited for the alpha to move or identify himself, so that he could make his desperate countermove. </p><p>“Are you going to say something,” Jason grunted at last, and Tim felt his innards melt in relief. He was about to answer, but Jason continued, “Or are you just going to stand there all day?”</p><p>There was the slightest scuffs of shoes on carpet as someone else leaned against the doorframe. “Is he really sleeping?”</p><p>Tim’s heart seized. It was <em>both</em> of them. </p><p>He wanted to throw up.</p><p>But Jason really had just stuck around and not touched Tim. Tim had been plenty vulnerable, but the alpha pup hadn’t taken advantage of that weakness. Jason wasn’t going to hurt Tim, and he wasn’t going to let Bruce hurt him either. Tim was…safe. </p><p>Ish. </p><p>Because Bruce sounded entirely too pleased that Tim was supposedly unconscious and helpless. </p><p>Jason snorted, and there was a creak of leather as he must have turned to face Bruce. “He conked out about five minutes into the movie and has been sleeping like the dead ever since. Kid must have been pretty tired.”</p><p>Bruce hmmed in consideration, and it was only by biting his tongue <em>hard</em> that Tim did not leap up and hide behind Jason. “I see. I don’t think he’s been sleeping well. He’s looked pretty haggard since he got here.”</p><p>Tim’s blood froze. How had Bruce known that? He’d only seen Tim briefly in the last three days, and that had been right after he’d been punched in the face (<em>by Robin!</em>). His adrenaline levels had definitely been high then. </p><p>Alfred must have been talking to Bruce. That stung, because Alfred was clearly not taking the danger Tim was in seriously, or he’d intentionally been feeding Bruce information so that when Tim was at his lowest point, Bruce could slink back and face no resistance. He wouldn’t do that, though, would he?</p><p>Either way, Bruce had been monitoring him and categorizing his weaknesses. Tim focused heavily on controlling his scent and keeping it the same milky-innocent-not-eavesdropping-again-omega-pup that it should have been. He needed to stay calm, and Bruce would go away eventually. He could deal with Alfred being a snitch later, but he just wanted Bruce to get bored and <em>leave</em>.</p><p>“Yeah. He seems pretty high strung.” Jason hesitated, then added in low voice, “That’s because of the 261?”</p><p>Bruce sighed, and there was another creak of leather and wood as he sat down on what must have been the love seat. It was right next to the door, but it was better than Bruce standing <em>in</em> the door itself. Tim could maybe, if he took them by surprise, scramble past Jason and run out the door before Bruce could catch him.</p><p>“I only know the 261a for sure. An alpha and a beta jumped him in an alley when he ran away. I saved him before they’d done more than restrain him, but I imagine that must have been very frightening for him, regardless,” Bruce said carefully. “The 261…Tim seemed very unsettled by his father’s touch when he was dropped off. I don’t have any proof, and Tim has barely said two words to me that weren’t screaming or threats, but I suspect that his father hurt him somehow. If not sexually, then physically or emotionally.”</p><p>There was another pause, and Tim could <em>feel</em> their eyes on him. His heart pounded. 261 meant rape, didn’t it? Bruce knew what his dad had tried to do, knew that Tim was dirty and gross, and that of course it was okay to rape Tim, because even his <em>dad</em> wanted to do that and-</p><p>“So, have you beaten up Daddy Dearest yet?” Jason asked spitefully.</p><p>Bruce growled in matched anger. “I don’t have any proof beyond a hunch. I’ve also managed to keep our marriage out of the papers so far, so if Batman did go over to their house and ask them about their son, then it would give us away.”</p><p>Jason huffed and jumped to his feet. He started walking toward Tim, and Tim was almost worried that Jason was about to wake him up and <em>ask</em> him what had happened, but then Jason turned and started walking the other way. A few paces later, he turned again.</p><p>“This sucks,” Jason grumbled. “We can’t even beat them up?”</p><p>“Not until the media catches wind of Tim. I’d like to avoid that as long as possible, though.”</p><p>“Why?!”</p><p>“Jaylad, calm down. I know you’re upset, but you have to think about the long term fallout for Tim. Yes, we could punch his father, and we’d both enjoy it, but do you think that the kids at school would show any mercy to a married child? They are already bad enough to you,” Bruce said, subtle hints of calming pheromones gentling Tim’s nerves without him realizing what was happening. “Jack Drake can’t reach Tim anymore, and he was probably an opportunistic offender, not a predatory one.”</p><p>“So that’s better?!” Jason argued, anger and protectiveness flaring in his scent.</p><p>“It means that he’s less likely to hurt anyone else,” Bruce corrected. “There’s no rush to go after him if it means that Tim will have to face the consequences. He’s been hurt enough, even if the worst thing his father did was sell him to me.”</p><p>Tim’s breath caught silently. It was pleasing, in a vindictive, nasty way that he knew he shouldn’t feed, that Bruce and Jason wanted to go after his dad. It wasn’t <em>surprising</em>, though, that Bruce would be angry at another alpha for trying to take his omega whore’s virginity. </p><p>The fact that he’d kept the news of the marriage away from the media…Tim supposed that marrying kids might look <em>bad</em>, but Tim was an omega. Most people wouldn’t object to a thirteen-year-old omega marrying an alpha three times his age any more strenuously than they’d object to a twenty-year-old omega marrying an alpha three times his age. Sure, people would make disgusted faces and pay lip service to disapproving, but most people would find it gross and then move on with their lives. After all, it wasn’t like Bruce had broken the law or anything.</p><p>“Did you come here just to annoy me, or was there a real reason?” Jason asked at last.</p><p>“Hm. Alfred wanted me to get you for dinner,” Bruce answered as though he’d just remembered.</p><p>“You left Alfred waiting this whole time?”</p><p>“I didn’t want to wake Tim when he’s finally started to sleep.” Bruce sighed, and there was another lull in the conversation before he finally said, “He’s less afraid of you. Do you think you can wake him up without touching him?”</p><p>Jason snorted. “Of course I can. <em>I’m</em> creative.”</p><p>Tim was just wondering how Jason planned to do that when the <em>hardest</em> throw pillow <em>known to man</em> slammed into his head.</p><p>“Jason!” Bruce exclaimed.</p><p>Tim sat up, blinking slowly and pretending to have just woken up. That thing <em>hurt</em>, and Tim groaned authentically. “What was that for?”</p><p>“Wake up, shrimp.” Jason rose to his feet and made a shooing motion at Bruce. “Dinner time.”</p><p> </p><p>Jason having returned to the manor was probably the best thing that had ever happened. Maybe the universe had just run out of bad luck to give him at last. More likely, it was trying to lull him into a false sense of security so it could wallop him with something new in a day or two, but until then, Jason was going on and on about all his superhero friends like they were just real people. Which, like, Tim knew that they were, but to actually hear about Speedy firing arrows at apples on Beast Boy’s head, or the Teen Titans secretly slapping fridge magnets onto Cyborg’s metal arm without him knowing, or Starfire and Nightwing’s awful flirting was, was on a new level of cool.</p><p>As an added bonus, Bruce didn’t try to start any awkward conversations with Tim that night. He and Jason spent most of the meal chatting between themselves about the details of Jason’s trip. Once Jason started mentioning people by their civilian names, it god harder to follow, though he supposed that the Roy Jason had mentioned must have been Speedy, since Roy Harper was Oliver Queen’s ward. The rest, he could only guess.</p><p>As they talked, Tim watched them both carefully, especially Bruce.</p><p>It was…Tim tried to find a word for it that wasn’t <em>painful</em> to describe how it felt to watch them interact. Bruce didn’t lavish his affection over Jason in an open or over the top manner, but it was so <em>blatant</em> at the same time.  Bruce stayed engaged in the conversation, asking for little details, like what Jason had done and who he had done it with. Tim didn’t want Bruce to be his father, but if Tim had presented as an alpha, would his parents have cared like Bruce? They never had before, but if he had proven himself, and actually been the alpha son they wanted…would he have mattered then?</p><p>Tim tried to smother the sting of envy with a metaphorical throw pillow, but it still hurt.</p><p>“So, any news on when Dickiebird is coming to town?” Jason asked at last, and Tim finally stopped poking at his peas to watch Bruce’s answer.</p><p>“He said he’d drop by once ‘someone with a maturity level higher than twelve’ has recovered enough to take care of the others,” Bruce said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke. </p><p>“Ah, so he’s never coming home, eh?”</p><p>Bruce sighed and shook his head. “No, I suppose not. I imagine he’ll give up in a day or two and come down.” </p><p>“Really?” Tim asked, speaking shyly for the first time since the first time for the dinner.</p><p>Bruce glanced to Tim. “I thought you didn’t want to meet Dick.”</p><p>“Are you kidding me?!” Tim exclaimed. “He’s <em>Robin</em>! Nightwing, but he <em>was</em> Robin! He-” Tim realized how stupid he must look, and the blood rushed to his face. “As long as he’s like, respectful and stuff, then it’s…” </p><p>Jason snorted and Bruce smiled. Bruce was a robot, though, and didn’t know basic human facial expressions. He didn’t look like a creep so much as just <em>creepy</em> when he smiled like that. Whoever had come up with the whole ‘don’t meet your heroes thing’ had really been onto something.</p><p>But then again, Robin the First, a.k.a. Nightwing, was coming to Gotham just to see Tim. Would he give Tim an autograph? Would he be mad if Tim showed him the pictures he’d taken of Dick and Bruce running around the city? Because if he was getting something signed, that would be the coolest. </p><p>There were definite advantages to this whole ‘meet your heroes’ thing, too.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Candyland</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Finally an update!<br/>Sorry this took longer than I wanted. Despite having the next chapter plotted, I realized that I needed at least one more before it. That ended with me giving this chapter *five* false starts, after writing nearly a thousand words in the next chapter. Also, school.<br/>Thank you to everyone who leaves comments and kudos! They're really encouraging to read!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a crash and a cacophony of what sounded like boards, cards, and game pieces all spilling everywhere. Jason swore, which he did a lot, but he sounded more annoyed than usual.</p><p>“Do you need help?” Tim offered, feeling rather awkward slouching in an armchair in the family lounge instead of helping Jason, who was clearly struggling.</p><p>Jason emerged from the game closet with a scowl and Candyland. “No, I need a different brother who actually knows how to put boxes away.”</p><p>Jason dropped the box on the coffee table with more force than was strictly necessary, and less force than Tim expected he’d wanted to use. Jason went back to the game closet, kicked any gamepiece that had the audacity to try to escape back inside, and slammed the door.</p><p>“<em>Dick</em>,” Jason said with an unnecessary, and yet heartfelt emphasis on his brother’s name, “can fix that mess when he gets back. Alfie won’t notice between now and tomorrow.”</p><p>Tim didn’t show his skepticism, but he’d been there a week and already knew that Alfred noticed everything, so he was kind of doubtful. Rather than point out what Jason probably already knew, Tim tactfully changed the subject.</p><p>“Aren’t we both a little old for Candyland?” Tim pointed out as Jason opened the box and unfolded the board.</p><p>“It was the only one I could catch,” Jason grumbled. “<em>I</em> am not sifting through that mess for a better board game, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying.”</p><p>Tim frowned. Did Jason think he couldn’t manage sorting out boardgames by himself? Why, because he was an omega? Or just because he was younger?</p><p>Jason noticed his offense and rolled his eyes. “That is a class-A disaster zone, Timmers, and you are a civilian. Not even Robin would take that task lightly. Also, we can just make Dick do it when he gets here.”</p><p>Tim hesitated, then wordlessly accepted the sort of explanation. That wasn’t a very good reason, but maybe Jason just actually liked Candyland and wanted an excuse to play it. Tim didn’t couldn’t remember ever playing it, but he’d heard his friends at school mocking it for being a little kid’s game. Who knew, maybe Candyland was secretly more fun than people gave it credit for?</p><p>Jason shuffled the cards and picked up the green gingerbread man. “He matches my Robin undies.”</p><p>Tim grinned and picked the blue gingerbread man. “I’ll be Nightwing, then.”</p><p>Jason snorted. “You should pick the yellow if you want to be <em>Goldie</em>.”</p><p>Jason started shuffling the cards without explaining what the nickname meant or the slight bitter edge he’d had when he said it. </p><p>Tim hesitated. Should he ask, or not? Jason seemed kind of annoyed, but was he annoyed at Tim? Tim couldn’t really think of a reason why Jason would be mad at him just for picking blue, so maybe the Goldie thing was a sore subject. Still, he should check.</p><p>“Why do you call him Goldie?”</p><p>Jason looked up at him, almost startled, then glanced away. “Uh, nevermind. Blue for Nightwing.”</p><p>Tim raised an eyebrow.</p><p>Jason gave him a muted glare and put the cards down between them, then placed his gingerbread man at the start. “Youngest goes first.”</p><p>Well, it had been the Goldie nickname that had been annoying him, but now it was definitely Tim.</p><p>Tim drew a card, assuming that’s what he was supposed to do and going along with the subject change. “Am I allowed to show this to you?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s not a secret. Have you played Candyland before?” Jason asked.</p><p>Tim shook his head and showed Jason the card. Jason took it and placed it next to the deck.</p><p>“Move to the first red square.” Jason drew his own card and moved to the first yellow square.</p><p>They played like that for a while. Jason remained pensive and a bit closed off, and Tim didn’t say much either, until Jason reached Princess Lolly Pop and Tim was stuck in a licorice space. </p><p>“Sorry, kid. I shouldn’t’ve snapped at you. Goldie’s just a nickname. It’s short for Golden Boy,” Jason confessed, the bitterness still subtly, but a bit more pronounced that time. “It doesn’t really matter, cause you’re not Robin.”</p><p>Tim frowned. “Do you not like Dick?”</p><p>How could anyone not like Dick? Assuming that he kept his hands to himself, he seemed <em>awesome</em>. He’d been Robin, and then he’d become Nightwing. He’d saved countless people so many times, and if he were anything like his Robin persona, or Richard Grayson’s public persona, then he had to be really cool.</p><p>Though, Bruce was about as polar opposite from his public persona as it was possible to get. He was closer to the Batman that Tim had seen and read about, but even then, there was definitely a difference. Bruce Wayne was softer than Batman was. Maybe Dick was meaner than Robin was.</p><p>Jason huffed. “Has anyone ever told you that you ask a <em>lot</em> of questions?”</p><p>A memory of his mother scolding him when he was younger for asking too many questions before his parents’ taxi came to take them to the airport, like when they were leaving and where were they going, and when they’d be home, sprung to mind.</p><p>“Yes,” Tim answered.</p><p>Jason sighed. “Dick is fine. It’s not his fault that he’s perfect. Bruce has been better about it lately, or maybe I’m just getting better, but at the beginning, anything I did, Dick had done better. I couldn’t throw a punch like Dick did, I couldn’t flip like Dick, I couldn’t run like Dick, and Bruce let me know. He wasn’t <em>mean</em> about it, or anything, but it still sucked. Really, if you’re not going to be Robin, you don’t have to worry about it.”</p><p>“That still doesn’t sound like much fun.” He knew a thing or two about not living up to someone’s high expectations, but unlike Jason, he’d never gotten strong and grown into the expectations; he’d presented as an omega and been thrown to the wolves. He supposed that he was right after all, and Jason really had earned Bruce’s love by being a strong alpha.</p><p>Jason snorted. “I love being Robin, and living here with Alfred and usually Bruce. Trying to live up to the bar that stupid ball of friendliness and perfection set? Nah, that’s not so great. You get it?”</p><p>Tim nodded and took his turn. “Yeah, my parents wanted an alpha. When they found out that I wasn’t an alpha, they decided to marry me off in seconds.”</p><p>Jason made a half-strangled noise. “Oh, hell, kid, that’s fucked up. I figured they were trying to save their company or something and got desperate.”</p><p>Tim’s eyes stung. “No. They just think that omegas are useless, so they didn’t need me anymore.”</p><p>Jason reached out like he was going to lay his hand on Tim’s arm, but Tim flinched hard and Jason pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.</p><p>“Sorry kid, I forgot. Do you want a hug? I can go get Alfred,” Jason offered, his tone worried, but softer than it had been. </p><p>“I’m fine,” he whispered. “It’s really fine.”</p><p>He swiped at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve and took another turn, even though that meant he was going twice in a row. He’d even be fine with Jason accusing him of cheating, as long as they changed the subject, but his body didn’t want to get with the picture. The tears kept falling, and he kept wiping them away. The more frustrated he got, the faster they fell and the quicker Tim’s scent showed his distress.</p><p>Jason stood up. “Okay, Tim. You need a hug. I’m getting the big guns.”</p><p>Tim inhaled sharply and pressed himself back in his seat. “Don’t get Bruce. Please, don’t get Bruce.”</p><p>He didn’t want to see Bruce at all, especially not while he was weak and vulnerable, and Bruce wasn’t allowed to touch him at <em>all</em>. Jason <em>knew</em> that Bruce wasn’t allowed to touch Tim. He gasped, though it might have been a sob. Had Bruce persuaded Jason to his side? </p><p>“B doesn’t like guns; I’m getting Alfred.” Before Tim could argue that Jason couldn’t make Alfred waste his time with <em>another</em> one of Tim’s emotional meltdowns, Jason was out of the room.</p><p>Tim groaned, buried his face in his hands, and pulled his knees to his chest. The tears came even faster, no matter how hard he tried to pull himself together, and it was all he could manage to not break down into helpless sobbing. He hated himself for being so weak, because <em>what he was doing</em> was why his parents didn’t want him. Alphas didn’t cry, and he was <em>supposed</em> to be an alpha. He didn’t <em>like</em> not being able to keep himself from breaking down like he kept doing, because it hurt so much and he wanted it to stop hurting.</p><p>He was suddenly hit with a desperate need to be in <em>his</em> house, in <em>his</em> bed, in <em>his</em> room, instead of crying alone in his husband’s house while his stepson tracked down his husband’s butler.</p><p>Except…</p><p>
  <em>He wasn’t alone.</em>
</p><p>The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know how, but he could <em>feel</em> the eyes on him.</p><p>“Tim? Are you alright?” Bruce asked from the door.</p><p>Tim clasped his hands over the scent glands on his collarbone and kept his wrist glands pressed up against his shirt in what he knew was a pointless attempt to smother his scent. Even though his scent wasn’t as strong as it had been in heat, it was still strong enough that he knew that Bruce could smell it, smell the <em>omega</em> on him, and there was no one to save him because he’d been stupid and hadn’t gone <em>with</em> Jason. </p><p>Tim tried to yell at Bruce to go away, but all that came out was a high pitched whine. </p><p>Bruce’s footsteps quickly crossed the room, and Tim snapped his head up, a scream caught in his throat. </p><p>Bruce didn’t look at him, though, until he’d sat down in Jason’s chair, leaving the coffee table between them. It was a worthless attempt to lure Tim into a false sense of security, because Tim knew as well as Bruce did that Tim would never be able to get past Bruce and through the door before Bruce could grab him. He was just as boxed in as he’d be if Bruce were right on top of him. </p><p>“I’m not going to touch you, Tim. Are you alright? Did Jason say something that upset you again?” Bruce asked, and the fake sincerity stung more than usual.</p><p>“No,” Tim muttered.</p><p>“Can you tell me why you’re upset? Are you hurt?” </p><p>“No.” </p><p>Bruce ran a hand down his face. “Tim, I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”</p><p>Tim sniffed and put his head back against his knees. “It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>Bruce hmmed doubtfully. “I think it does, Tim. Will you tell me what’s wrong?”</p><p>“I want to go home,” he whispered. The end of it was choked off with a sob, and then he couldn’t stop. </p><p>He wanted things to go back to how they were, before his dad tried to rape him and his mom suggested that they have Bruce Wayne do it instead. He wanted to run around Gotham at crazy hours of the night, taking pictures that he’d never show to anyone of a man he could still imagine was the best hero on earth. He wanted to play chess with his mom, and earn that subtle approving smirk that ghosted across her lips whenever he made a good move. He wanted to curl up next to his dad on the couch and let that warmth and whatever crappy tv show his dad was watching lure him to sleep.</p><p>Even the thought of being near to his dad, let alone touching him, with or without his mom’s presence to buffer, made him want to die. The feeling of hands on his sides was so real that his head shot up to make sure that Bruce wasn’t touching him.</p><p>Bruce looked uncomfortable and nearing desperate, perched on the edge of his chair like he was about to get up and walk away. </p><p>“Tim… I’m very sorry that you had to leave your home, but you were not safe there. If there’s anything we can do to make you feel more at home here, we’d all be happy to accommodate you as best we can. I promise, you’re safe here and we care about you very much,” Bruce said, shifting slightly. </p><p>It… It was just a lie, again, to get Tim to trust him so that Tim would spill how he knew that Bruce was Batman. Tim <em>knew</em> that, but he <em>wanted</em> all those pretty lies so badly that it made his chest ache. He wanted to be safe and cared for, but he wanted his real parents to do that, not his husband with a daddy kink. </p><p>“Do you want me to call Alfred and Jason?”</p><p>Tim shook his head, unable to choke out that Jason had already run off to drag Alfred back and make him deal with Tim.</p><p>“Is there anything I can do for you?”</p><p><em>Go away</em> died on his lips. It was pointless, because Bruce would ignore his wishes anyway, and he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to manage the words around his ragged gasps. Jason would be back any second, with Alfred, and Alfred would shoot Bruce if he tried to touch Tim.</p><p>Eventually, the sobs petered out and Tim could breathe enough to speak again.</p><p>“No,” he whispered at last.</p><p>“Alright, I understand. Do you want to talk about it?” </p><p>No, he didn’t, and definitely not with Bruce. If he couldn’t go to his <em>real</em> room, he’d rather go back to the room Bruce had given him and hide until he figure out how to control his emotions. </p><p>“Is there anything specific about your house that you miss?” Bruce pressed, apparently taking his silence as agreement.</p><p>“I want my parents,” his mouth mumbled without his permission. He clenched his eye shut tight and tried to force back the tears, but it was true and it wasn’t at the same time, and it was all so confusing and it wasn’t fair. He didn’t miss his parents who had sold him off to the highest bidder, but he missed what they <em>had</em> been, and missed being able to hope that someday, they’d love him the same way that Bruce loved Jason. </p><p>There was a long pause. “Do you want to see them?”</p><p>“No!” Tim cried.</p><p>Bruce seemed surprised by the force of his reaction, but then something must have clicked, because the look in his eyes became understanding. “I won’t make you see them, then. They’re still in town, if you change your mind.”</p><p>They…His parents were still in town? It had been almost two weeks, and they’d only been planning to stay for one. </p><p>His gut twisted. Actually, that made perfect sense. They’d never been particularly interested in him before. He must have been more annoying than he’d thought, and once he was out of the way, there was nothing for them to run from.</p><p>“Would you maybe like to see just your dad?” Bruce tilted his head slightly, watching Tim’s expression with a calculating gleam in his eye.</p><p>“No.” It came out as a husky whisper all tied up with horror and pain. No, never, not as long as he lived, but yes, so much.</p><p>That must have been the answer Bruce was looking for. His expression softened, but remained watchful. “Would you like to see just your mom?”</p><p>Tim’s breath caught in his throat, and he almost said yes, but… </p><p>He was still an omega. His mom had been the one to suggest selling him in the first place…but she’d also saved him from his dad. She didn’t want to see him again; he was too big of an embarrassing disappointment, but he wanted to see her. If she left, when was the next time he’d get the chance to see her? Months at least, maybe years.</p><p>“She won’t want to see me.” Tim picked at the hem of his sleeve so he wouldn’t have to look in Bruce’s eyes. “I’m a disappointment.”</p><p>A hint of anger tinged Bruce’s scent, and Tim’s eyes flicked to Bruce’s warily. The alpha didn’t seem mad at <em>him</em>, just <em>mad</em>, though.</p><p>“Do you want to see her?” Bruce asked again.</p><p>Tim hesitated, then nodded. </p><p>“I’ll give her a call, then,” Bruce promised with a cool edge in his voice. </p><p>Tim’s eyes widened in shock. “Really?”</p><p>Bruce’s expression softened, and the calculating look slipped away. “Yes, Tim. I want you to be happy almost as much as I want you to be safe. I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll do my best to set up a meeting for you. And, Tim?”</p><p>Bruce waited until Tim was looking him in the eye to continue.</p><p>“I am very sorry that you were forced into this situation by people who should have been protecting you, and I’m very sorry that marrying you was the only way I could keep you safe.”</p><p>Before Tim could answer, Jason’s loud footsteps pounded up to the door, then stopped just inside the room. Tim could see him, vaguely, in his peripheral vision. He could hear hurried, but more contained, footsteps follow Jason into the room, but Alfred didn’t stop until he was crouched in front of Tim and drying Tim’s cheeks with a clean handkerchief.</p><p>“Master Tim, what seems to be the problem?” </p><p>Tim just sniffled in response and looked away, so Alfred gave him the handkerchief to let him blow his nose.</p><p>“He’s homesick,” Bruce supplied. “And he wants to see his mom.”</p><p>It sounded even stupider when Bruce said it so plainly. Tim could feel his cheeks turn crimson, but Alfred still made a sympathetic British noise and pulled Tim forward against his shoulder. </p><p>Tim didn’t deserve that. Not when he was so useless and pathetic; he shouldn’t be rewarded for bad behavior. But Tim was greedy, and he wanted the comfort he hadn’t earned.</p><p>He closed his eyes and let himself lean into the hug.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This probably would have been up earlier, but I got this idea for a dialogue exchange and ended up writing a three thousand word fic between 3:30 and 6 on Saturday, which completely destroyed my energy levels for the rest of the day. I make bad decisions when it comes to sleeping... Anyway, if you like Tim and Jason interactions (and I have <em>read</em> your comments, so I <em>know</em> you do) go check it out. I have been bullied into promising a second chapter on that, which I'll upload after I get the first Selkie Fic chapter up.<br/>ALSO GUYS!!!! Remember when I asked a few chapters ago what secondary gender Jesus would be? Literally the <em>Bible</em> answered it for me. Look up Revelation 1:8!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Maybe?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so this is kind of late, but I did update Rooftop Encounter and I uploaded the first chapter of that selkie fic that I promised. I also sorted out a couple of plot issues that were tripping me up with this. <br/>With the plot on Unholy Matrimony and Coat &amp; Cowl settled, I've come to a crossroads. Should I commit to a weekly update, or continue to upload things as I write them. As I write them can be much faster, or much slower, but weekly is reliable. I'd be updating both fics weekly if I went that route, and I'd alternate chapters on them if I didn't. What would you guys prefer? Let me know in the comments.<br/>Thank you to everyone who leaves kudos and comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took most of the day to convince Jason that he just needed some time to himself. Actually, it took most of the day and appealing to Alfred for help to get a rest from the alpha who had apparently decided that he was Tim’s designated bodyguard against all things even mildly upsetting. </p><p>Jason meant well, of course, but he was just. There. Always. It was <em>weird</em>. As someone who was a hobbyist stalker, he didn’t really have room to complain, but <em>still</em>. </p><p>Free at last, Tim was crashing in the library when there was a soft knock on the oak of the bookcases, a few feet behind him.</p><p>“Go <em>away</em>, Ja-” Tim turned to face Jason, but froze when he found himself staring at Bruce instead, only feet away.</p><p>Tim gasped and scrambled out of his chair and back several paces before he’d even processed that he was moving, his eyes wide and his heart thundering.</p><p>Bruce bared his neck slightly in a pretense of submission. “Sorry, Tim. I didn’t mean to startle you.”</p><p>Tim tried to hide his deep breaths as he clutched his book to his chest with white knuckles. “I-I’m not scared.”</p><p>Bruce gave him a patronizing look, and Tim did his best impression of Jason’s scowl at him. It probably looked more intimidating on Jason, who had height, muscles, and training, and who wasn’t a little omega who wasn’t even sure if his eyebrows were tilted at the proper angle.</p><p>“I’m <em>not</em> scared of <em>you</em>,” Tim stated a bit more firmly, and pointedly dropped into Jason’s window seat nest so he could keep his eye on Bruce. He needed to make sure that Bruce knew that he wasn’t a pushover, even if his pulse was racing and it took everything he had to purposely relax his posture into a casual lounge.</p><p>“I’m glad. You don’t have to be scared of me,” Bruce lied. </p><p>Tim was going to try one of Jason’s growls, but figured that it would just be embarrassing. “I just said I’m not! I wasn’t lying!”</p><p>His scent, though, all defensiveness and fear, was giving him away. Bruce’s nose twitched; he obviously smelled it on Tim and knew that what he said wasn’t true. </p><p>“I didn’t think you were,” Bruce said, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. “We need to talk, Tim.” </p><p>Bruce took a step toward him, and before he could even think of the need to keep up a strong façade, he’d pressed back as far as he could, but there was only the window behind him and the empty space beyond it. The muntin bars dug into his back, and the glass was bitingly cold against the back of his bare neck. How far away were Alfred and Jason? He’d never be able to get past Bruce alone, and he should never have let him get so-</p><p>Bruce casually sat down in the chair Tim had just vacated, and he didn’t look particularly interested in moving. </p><p>“I’m not going to touch you, Tim,” Bruce reminded him, calm and collected as ever, even though he probably was getting off on the mind games he was playing with Tim.</p><p>“I know,” Tim snapped, then flinched as he waited for Bruce’s reaction. Bruce said nothing, though, and didn’t betray any emotion on his face, so Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to resume his relaxed posture. He managed something like it, still crammed as far into the corner as he could get. “You can’t touch me as long as I can prove you’re Batman.”</p><p>Bruce sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Tim, did I touch you while we were alone earlier?”</p><p>Tim swallowed hard. Bruce had left without a word once Tim had stopped crying. Not…not once Jason and Alfred had arrived and put a damper on any advances, not a respectable half-minute to pretend like that <em>wasn’t</em> why he was leaving. He’d been there, watching Tim with as much intensity as Jason had, until Tim had finally managed to get his emotions to stop running away from him. It had seemed almost like…like Bruce actually cared. </p><p>“N-no, sir,” Tim whispered.</p><p>“No, I didn’t. I’m not going to touch you, Tim. As far as I’m concerned, you are one of my sons now,” Bruce told him. </p><p>Tim watched Bruce’s face carefully for any sign of insincerity, but he couldn’t find one. That didn’t mean that it was <em>true</em>, and just being his son wasn’t protection at all. Tim said nothing, so Bruce continued. </p><p>“I spoke with your mother,” Bruce said, his face taking on a stony, business-like quality almost as good as Janet Drake’s.</p><p>Tim’s heart sank “She doesn’t want to see me?”</p><p>Of course she didn’t. </p><p><em>Omegas are nasty, manipulative beasts,</em> his mother spat, pulling him along after her by his arm. </p><p>Tim rubbed his arm where she’d held him all those years ago absently. At the time, he’d been more focused on the rare physical contact than the words, but now, the words were all that mattered. She’d been right, after all. She was always right, and of course she’d never want to see Tim.</p><p>Bruce’s expression tightened. “No, Tim. She said that she might be able to fit you in sometime next week.”</p><p>Tim gasped, and he could <em>smell</em> the sudden spark of joy in his scent. “Really?! She really said that?!”</p><p>Bruce frowned at his reaction for some reason, and Tim shrank back, trying to process it.</p><p>“…You’re not going to let me go,” he realized, and his heart sank.</p><p>Bruce sighed and shook his head. “I’m not going to stop you from seeing your mom if it matters that much to you, Tim, but I’ll admit that I don’t like the idea.”</p><p>“W-why not?” That was a no. That was Bruce’s businessman way of telling Tim no. Bruce could be so much like Janet Drake sometimes.</p><p>“Tim, your mother was one of the people who sold you, against your will, to someone who they believed would use your body for sexual gratification,” Bruce’s voice was carefully <em>not</em> a growl, and it set Tim’s nerves on edge. “I want to keep you safe, Tim.”</p><p>“She-” Tim tried to defend her, but he couldn’t. His eyes stung. “I just want my mom. She won’t- You don’t-”</p><p>Bruce softened. “I don’t like your mom, and I don’t like how she’s treated you. It was cruel and wrong. Still, I want you to be happy. If that means arranging a meeting with your mom, then I’ll do that.”</p><p>Tim’s heart hammered with the sudden hope. “You mean it?” </p><p>Bruce looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. “This time, at least.”</p><p>“This time?” That was a beautiful, terrible statement, a pandora’s box. <em>This time</em> meant maybe a <em>next time</em>, and Tim wasn’t sure if that made him excited or terrified. </p><p>“We’ll see how things go.” Bruce ran a hand through his hair and glared at his knees as though they had personally offended him. “I don’t just care about your physical health, Tim. I want you to be emotionally and mentally healthy too. I know that it’s important for omegas, especially just after they present, to have strong pack bonds that they can rely on. You have something like that with Jason and Alfred, but it makes sense that you’d still crave something from your old pack.” </p><p>Tim actually hadn’t known that about omegas, but that made his clinginess to Alfred suddenly make more sense. Was that why Alfred was tolerating him? Because Tim couldn’t help but want him? </p><p> Bruce looked up at Tim, and his eyes hardened with a steely resolve. “I’m letting you see her on a trial visit. If your mother damages your health in any way, then it won’t be safe for you to visit her. Do you understand?”</p><p>Tim opened his mouth, then shut it and nodded dumbly, caught on Bruce’s words. </p><p>They didn’t make any sense. Why would Bruce care about his feelings? Or what happened with his beta mother? He wasn’t seeing his dad, so as long as Tim’s virginity wasn’t getting claimed by another alpha, why would anything Tim did matter? Maybe Bruce was just sick of seeing Tim cry so much. The thought made his eyes sting, and he hated it. </p><p>“I want to see her,” Tim whispered, blinking quickly.</p><p>“Then you will, Tim,” Bruce promised. “I’ll make sure of it. And I’ll make sure that you’re safe.”</p><p>Tim pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face. Bruce was right there, watching, but any hope of preserving a strong front was gone. He was too pathetic for that, and if Bruce wanted to take him at that moment, he just could. Just like he could have in the lounge, when he hadn’t known that Alfred and Jason would arrive momentarily. </p><p>Maybe…</p><p>Bruce stood and started to leave, and Tim glanced up. Bruce wasn’t even looking at Tim, though. It wasn’t like he was making a purposeful effort to avoid ogling at him, either. He just… wasn’t looking at Tim.</p><p>Tim felt a lump in his throat the size of an egg. He… didn’t <em>know</em>.</p><p>“Bruce,” Tim croaked, before he could chicken out.</p><p>Bruce turned with a quizzical lift to his brow. </p><p>Tim looked away, because the grain of wood in that bookshelf that had been drab before was just <em>suddenly</em> mesmerizing. Words had not just escaped him, they’d vanished, even as Tim tried.</p><p>“I-uh.” Tim said. Eloquent.</p><p>“Take your time, Tim,” Bruce instructed Tim, turning patiently all the way to face Tim. </p><p>“I-” Tim  took a deep breath and looked up at Bruce’s eyes. “Thank you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is kind of a short chapter, but I'm really close to done with the next one.<br/>Let me know what you thought! If you like Tim and Jason interactions with a side of Tim not being terrified of Bruce, check out my fic "Rooftop Encounter." If you like Jason Todd stealing the tires off the Batmobile, selkies, and you like UM enough to be this many chapters in, then check out my fic "Coat &amp; Cowl."<br/>Also, guess who shows up next chapter! ;D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Big Brother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me: Yay, I'm almost done with this chapter!<br/>My computer: Yeah, but what if I stalled for, like, an hour?<br/>Me: Please don't.<br/>My word processor: Okay, but what if I deleted all of your editing + the new stuff you've written on the chapter?<br/>Me: <em>Please</em> don't.<br/>My computer &amp; word processor: :) We did it for you.<br/>Me: Why do you hate me?<br/>Me: *ends up rewriting nearly the entire thing*....This is way better than what I wrote before...<br/>The confoundedly smug pieces of technology and software: You're welcome.</p><p>Thank you to everyone who reads, especially those of you who take time to let me know what you think! Reading what people liked and think really makes my day!<br/>Without further delay, the moment you've all been waiting for:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim didn’t know what to do about Bruce.</p><p>Bruce was reserved and composed, patient in the extreme. Tim had watched him sit on uncomfortable roofs for <em>hours</em> on stakeouts when he was following the bats around town, and he’d seen enough tabloids and heard enough stories to know just how well Bruce could play a ditzy airhead. Could he play the concerned…whatever he really was to Tim…just as well? Did Bruce <em>actually</em> care about him, or was he just playing a long game to convince Tim that he was a good, trustworthy mate? </p><p>He was caught in a flinch, not sure whether to run or relax. </p><p>His chest ached; he wanted Bruce to be actually good. He wanted to be able to let his guard down. He was <em>tired</em> of fighting, and he wanted to believe that Bruce, or just <em>someone</em>, actually gave a damn about him. Alfred and Jason…they at least both gave a dang. </p><p>The consequences of making the wrong call if Bruce <em>was</em> trying to groom him, though, were to horrible to consider. He didn’t…the thought of being dragged into Bruce’s – into <em>Batman’s</em> - bed made him want to be sick. If he were <em>lucky</em>, then he’d only have to endure it for five years. If he <em>wasn’t</em> lucky, and Tim had a husband and two stepsons to prove that he wasn’t very lucky, then Bruce would imprison him, or impregnate him and force him to chose between his child and his freedom. </p><p>Alfred had promised to kill Bruce if he tried to touch Tim, but what if Bruce knew that and killed Alfred before he made his move? A bit of poison in his tea, too much caffeine or insulin, and the death would look like natural causes. Jason had been really mad at Bruce for marrying a kid, but Bruce could send him to boarding school, or just threaten to kick Jason back out on the streets, and then he’d have all the freedom in the world to do what he wanted with Tim. Maybe he’d just threaten them unless Tim told them that he wanted to be with Bruce.</p><p>It was all a big, complicated mess of emotions that he didn’t want to deal with, but was having a hard time ignoring.</p><p>And then there was Dick Grayson.</p><p>He’d be arriving in a few hours, and Tim’s excitement was rapidly turning to dread.</p><p>Dick wasn’t just an alpha, he was an <em>adult</em> alpha, which meant that he wasn’t safe like Jason. Or maybe it was safe to be around Dick, because if Bruce <em>was</em> telling the truth about wanting to take care of Tim, then he wouldn’t let Dick hurt him, and if he <em>wasn’t</em> telling the truth, then he’d still be mad that Dick had touched his mate. </p><p>It wasn’t really <em>Dick</em> that he was worried about, though, it was Dick’s <em>instincts</em>. The ones that said that he should want to claim and make babies with an unmarked omega. The ones that had overpowered his dad, and the ones that his mom had warned him every alpha would have. </p><p>Tim ran his sleeve over his eyes and scowled. He’d had <em>enough</em> crying, and he was sick of looking like a baby in front of everyone. </p><p>Tim turned on his heel and made another lap of the room. There were too many decisions to make, and he didn’t feel ready to make <em>any</em> of them.</p><p>A quick rap on his door disrupted his thoughts.</p><p>“Hey, Timmy, Dickiebird’s gonna be here in a bit, and Bruce wants you to come down,” Jason called.</p><p>Tim dabbed at his eyes carefully to soak up any wetness without irritating his eyes and making it look like he’d been crying, and not <em>nearly</em> crying, before he opened the door. </p><p>Jason stepped back to allow him into the hall. Tim wasn’t looking up, but he could smell the faint scent of disapproval coming off Jason.</p><p>“You smell like my geometry classroom during midterms, kid. Relax, Dick doesn’t bite,” Jason said, rolling his eyes and leading the way toward the stairs.</p><p>Tim had to hurry to keep up. He rubbed the sleeves of his shirt over his scent glands to try to wipe away the scent of <em>worry-stress-dread</em> that he hadn’t even noticed was clinging to him. Of course, that just got the scent worked into his shirt, and raised his stress levels even more.</p><p>Jason sighed. “God, you’re going to give yourself an ulcer. Hell, you’re going to give <em>me</em> an ulcer. Come on, let’s wash you up.”</p><p>Jason turned back down the hall and into his own room. Tim hesitated, but if Jason had wanted to touch him, then he would have done it while Tim was sleeping and they were alone, so he stepped across the threshold just as Jason was coming out of the bathroom with a dripping wet washcloth. </p><p>“Take this, scrub up, then change your shirt, or Dickie’s going to make a big sad face and try to hug you when he gets here,” Jason warned seriously. “I swear, that man is an octopus.”</p><p>Tim nodded; he didn’t know if Jason was kidding or actually meant it, but he didn’t want any hugs from any of the alphas. </p><p>Maybe Jason.</p><p>But not yet.</p><p>Tim took the washcloth back to his room and pulled off his shirt, then scrubbed his scent glands and his skin before pulling on a clean shirt. He couldn’t tell – he now realized how <em>cloying</em> his bedroom’s smell was, since the sensory adaptation that had blinded him to it had readjusted back in the hall – but he was pretty sure that he was okay. He would smell at least <em>better</em>.</p><p>Jason was waiting for him in the hall, and again led the way down the hall.</p><p>“That’s better. Still a bit of a smell, but more anxious and less like you’re about to have an aneurysm,” Jason commented.</p><p>That was a definite improvement, especially if it let him avoid hugs. </p><p>Jason frowned and almost nudged his arm, but pulled back just in time. “Hey, lighten up. Nothing bad is going to happen.”</p><p>Tim picked at the hem of his sleeves and glanced up at Jason. “But-”</p><p>Jason flicked his nose, and Tim stumbled back a step in surprise. That was technically a violation of the <em>no touch</em> rule, but… It wasn’t a <em>bad</em> touch or anything. </p><p>“Nope. Even if Dick wasn’t the most perfect human being <em>ever</em>, no alpha would be stupid enough to try to hurt you in front of Bruce, especially not someone who knows that he’s Batman.”</p><p>Tim frowned. That was actually a very good point. Dick wouldn’t dare try anything improper in front of Tim’s husband, and if Bruce actually was a good person and just wanted to be his dad, then he’d <em>still</em> protect Tim, so…he could just be excited. Maybe <em>later</em>, if he were <em>alone</em> with Dick, then there would be some reason to worry, but…</p><p>“Okay,” Tim said, daring a soft smile, and Jason nodded and started walking again.</p><p>If he didn’t have to worry yet, then he could just focus on…</p><p>Oh, god, he was about to meet <em>Nightwing</em>! </p><p>Tim dropped back a few paces so that Jason wouldn’t be able to see his ridiculously red face. </p><p>The Dick <em>McFreaking</em> Grayson was coming to meet <em>him</em>! He didn’t <em>know</em> that he was coming to meet Tim, but he was, and that was so freaking awesome! Robin II was amazing, but Robin I was <em>iconic</em>, and twice!</p><p>Tim collected himself before Jason could notice, but his lips kept twitching into an involuntary ecstatic grin. </p><p>
  <em>Nightwing! </em>
</p><p>Jason led him to the foyer, where Bruce was pacing in front of the door. In spite of his usual collectedness, he looked a bit stressed about Dick’s arrival as well. That didn’t bode well, and Tim’s excitement flickered. Was Bruce worried that Dick was going to react like Jason? Cool as that had been, Tim <em>liked</em> his face, and he didn’t think that it would last a blow from a much bigger, older vigilante. Still, Bruce would be able to stop him before he could hit Tim, probably.</p><p>Bruce looked up as they approached. “Ah, boys. Dick will-”</p><p>A roaring motor coming up the front drive distracted Bruce from the end of his sentence. The motor was killed right in front of the front steps, and Bruce barely had the door unlocked when it was thrown open.</p><p>Tim threw his hands over his mouth to stifle an excited squeal. He was only mostly successful, but he didn’t beat himself up over it, because that was <em>Dick Grayson</em>, right there! Right there, on the doorstep, in jeans and an eye-searingly awful tee shirt. </p><p><em>Wow</em>, and Tim had thought that his original Nightwing suit was bad. </p><p>“Dick,” Bruce said, his voice warm, but with a note of stress.</p><p>“Bruce.” Dick stepped past him into the foyer, obviously picking up on that same stress and concerned. “What’s the emergency? What did-”</p><p>Dick’s eyes fell on Tim, then gave a long-suffering sigh. “Jason was only gone <em>two weeks</em>, B. Did you seriously get <em>that</em> lonely?”</p><p>Bruce sighed heavily, and Jason snickered. “Yeah, B did worse than just going to get a replacement, Dickie.”</p><p>Dick’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”</p><p>Bruce ran a hand down his face and ignored the question. “Dick, this is Tim. Tim, this is my ward, Dick Grayson.”</p><p>That was kind of an unnecessarily detailed introduction of Dick. Even if Tim hadn’t already known that Dick was coming, he lived in Gotham, and everyone in Gotham knew who Dick Grayson was.</p><p>“And, no, I did not get lonely. He just needed help that I could give him,” Bruce responded.</p><p>Dick rolled his eyes, but then he looked back at Tim and smiled at him. </p><p>That was <em>so</em> cool! Tim had some pictures of Nightwing smiling, but they were all with his mask on, and the pictures of Richard Grayson in the media were all fake smiles and dopey acting. The <em>real</em> Dick Grayson was staring straight down at him, all dimply and crinkly eyed like he was actually glad to see Tim.</p><p>“Sorry ‘bout that, kiddo; you gave me a bit of a surprise. Nice to meet you,” Dick said, taking a step closer and reaching for Tim.</p><p>The blood drained from his face, and he stumbled back with a frightened cry before he was even conscious of it. Bruce grabbed Dick’s wrist, and Jason jumped between Tim and Dick with a low, rumbling growl. </p><p>“Tim does not like being touched by alphas,” Bruce warned Dick with a meaningful look.</p><p>Confusion, then realization crossed Dick’s features, and he turned back to Tim with something uncomfortably like pity. Tim’s face turned bright cherry red, especially when he realized that Dick had just been reaching his hand out for a <em>handshake</em>.</p><p>“That why you’ve got him?” Dick asked, almost imperceptibly quiet.</p><p>Bruce gave a half-nod. “It’s part of it. Give him space.”</p><p>“Yeah, leave baby bird alone,” Jason echoed loudly, and Tim flinched at the annoyance in his voice.</p><p>Bruce released Dick’s wrist, and Dick turned back to Tim, but stayed a respectful distance away. His scent became happy and welcoming, and Tim found himself settled by it, even though he knew that he was being manipulated.</p><p>“So, Tim, are you just here for a bit, or are we keeping you?” Dick asked, though his humor seemed a bit forced. </p><p>Great, Dick knew Bruce’s suspicions about his dad, and he was going to be weird about it. Stupid bat-telepathy of glares.</p><p>“Tim is here permanently,” Bruce answered for him.</p><p>“Not like I had a choice,” Tim muttered. </p><p>Dick’s scent sombered. Unlike Bruce, his scent seemed to change easily and freely. “I’m sorry you feel like that, Timmy. This was all very sudden for you, wasn’t it?”</p><p>He’d had a few days warning, kind of, so he had known that something of the sort would happen. Tim nodded anyway, because the whole <em>actually my greatest hero wants to legally be allowed to rape me for the rest of my life, unless I’m wrong and he’s telling the truth and went about adopting me in a really weird manner, but I don’t have a clue anymore</em> thing had happened pretty abruptly.</p><p>“I’m sorry about that. Are your parents…” Dick trailed off and glanced at Bruce.</p><p>“Jack and Janet Drake. They’re alive, but Tim wasn’t safe with them,” Bruce explained.</p><p>Dick nodded sympathetically and seemingly relieved. “I’m sorry about that, Tim, but I’m really glad to have you for a brother.”</p><p>“Oh, we’re not brothers,” Tim said plainly, because he was an idiot.</p><p>Dick looked a bit taken aback, then he softened. “That’s fine. We don’t have to be brothers right away, but if you ever want to be, then I’m right here for you.”</p><p>Tim bit his lip and tried to hide his grin. Dick <em>wanted</em> to be his brother? That was so cool. </p><p>“I’m your stepmom.”</p><p>There was a long pause.</p><p>“What.”</p><p>Bruce sighed heavily. “You are <em>not</em> Dick’s stepmother. Dick, he’s not your stepmother.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, Dick isn’t adopted!” Tim remembered. “I’m your….” He did some quick mental math. “I’m your ex-fosterstepmom.”</p><p>Dick turned and raised an eyebrow at Bruce. “What the hell is he talking about?”</p><p>Bruce gave a long-suffering sigh. “His parents were going to marry him off to either me or Lex Luthor. There was only one way to get him from them. Legally speaking, we’re married, but he’s your brother.”</p><p>Dick snorted, then covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but…I don’t know, I was expecting Selina or Talia when this happened. How have you been able to keep this from the media?”</p><p>“Few people know, and neither I nor the Drakes have told the press. I’m sure they’ll find out eventually, but I’d like to put that off as long as possible,” Bruce told him.</p><p>Dick whistled in appreciation. “I do <em>not</em> envy you when that news breaks.”</p><p>Bruce gave an agreeing grunt, and Tim nodded. Dick was probably talking to Bruce, but it was really going to suck for everyone once the media found out. </p><p>Dick clapped his hands and knelt a few feet away from Tim, putting himself lower than and less dangerous to Tim. “Well, does new baby stepmom have any hobbies?” </p><p>That was…kind of him, to try to accommodate Tim’s fear like that, and so quickly too. Maybe…maybe Dick was younger enough to be safe, or maybe Nightwing was just magic, and he was a nice alpha.</p><p>Dick was staring at him expectantly.</p><p>Oh, yeah, answering! </p><p>“I, uh, like photography. I do a bit of gymnastics, but I’m not very good.”</p><p>Dick raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “You know, I could teach you a thing or two about that. I used to be in a circus.”</p><p>“I know, I saw you! You said that you’d do a quadruple somersault for me,” Tim gushed, leaving out the bit where that singular promise had accidentally revealed an entire flock of vigilantes. </p><p>Flock? Did you call a bunch of bats a flock? Or was it a flock because there was only one bat, but two birds? </p><p>Dick’s brow knit, then his eyes widened in surprise. “I remember that! You were that little kid we took a picture with?” </p><p>Tim nodded, and Dick’s face split into a huge grin. “I can’t believe it. That’s amazing! Bruce, I know this kid!”</p><p>Jason frowned. “You do?”</p><p>Dick and Tim both nodded, though “know” was kind of stretching it. It had been one picture on a very busy night for Dick; he was surprised that Dick remembered him at all.</p><p>“How about you and I go down to the-" Dick cut off, then glanced up at Bruce in a silent question. </p><p>Jason snorted and Bruce nodded. "Tim knows."
</p><p>Dick chuckled. "Ah, good. Well, Tim, how about we go down to the Batcave, and I can help you with your gymnastics?” Dick offered, and he seemed to be both genuine and excited. "It'll be fun. Broth- I mean, ex-fosterstepmom, ex-fosterstepson bonding time."</p><p>Tim put a hand over his mouth to hide the ridiculous grin. Dick wanted to spend time with Tim, and he hadn't even punched him first. The day honestly couldn’t get better. Unlss, of course, he was going to <em>actually</em> get to practice with Nightwing. Besides, the <em>Batcave</em>? He had been right, that <em>was</em> what they called it! He could actually, finally see Batman's base of operation, that Batmobile, and the batarang factory that he was <em>sure</em> was down there.</p><p>It could get worse, though, and a sudden remembrance brought that lesson from his mother to the front of his mind.</p><p>
  <em>Alphas couldn’t be trusted. </em>
</p><p>He <em>wanted</em> to go with Dick so badly, but he didn’t want to go anywhere alone. Dick hadn’t extended any invitation to Bruce or Jason, but Dick wasn’t safe if Bruce or Jason weren’t around. He couldn’t trust any alpha.</p><p>But…that wasn’t exactly what his mom had said.</p><p>Alphas couldn’t be trusted <em>when he was in heat</em>. He wasn’t in heat.</p><p>Maybe it was still a bad idea, but Dick seemed so kind and open, and there was no hint of lust or cruelty in his scent. Besides, he was a hero, and maybe that wasn’t <em>complete</em> protection, but maybe it could be enough until he was in heat.</p><p>Tim straightened his back and resolve. If something happened with Dick, then he could deal with that later. In the meantime, he wanted to be friends with Nightwing.</p><p>“Okay,” Tim agreed, fighting another grin.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tim: *stress* *stress* *stress*<br/>Jason: *brotherly intervention via nose flicks*</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Kitchen Talks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back! Sorry this took so long; I got distracted by Whumptober. But guys! It's an entire <em>month</em> of hurting characters. I accidentally wrote one whump fic that was 11.5 thousand words long, so, um...yeah. I really like this month. I'm behind because I had to work on this chapter, but I'm going to write all thirty-one prompts, even if it goes into November. If you haven't read any of my other fics, go ahead and check them out! I'll try not to lose track of my longfics so badly again.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick’s face split into a huge grin that lit up his face, forcing Tim to smile a little wider. A trace of anxiety whispered in his ear, but he forced it back as Dick stood up and brushed off his knees. Dick wasn’t going to hurt him.</p><p>Probably.</p><p>But without the heat to make him irresistible, Dick would have to <em>choose</em> to hurt Tim, and that would be really stupid, because Bruce would be really mad if Dick damaged Tim or took his virginity before Bruce could. Unless Bruce was telling the truth about just wanting to keep Tim safe, in which case it would <em>still</em> be dumb, because Bruce would still probably beat him up. Dick had known Bruce for way longer than Tim had, so of course he’d know that.</p><p>Tim took a subtle deep breath and let it out, feeling a bit more calm.</p><p>“Are we going right now?” he asked with a smile.</p><p>Cripes, he was about to see the Batcave. <em>The</em> Batlair, with all their batgadgets and battraining equipment, and most importantly, it was <em>Nightwing</em> showing him.</p><p>“Well, I better say hi to Alfred first, or I’m going to get nothing but cold oatmeal until he forgives me.” Dick laughed loudly at his own joke, which hadn’t even been very funny until his dorky laugh was tagged on. “Tell you what. How about you go ahead with Bruce and Jason, and I’ll catch up in a few minutes, okay?”</p><p>Tim hesitated, glancing up at Bruce, but the alpha’s face gave no indication as to what he was thinking. But…he wasn’t going to try anything in front of Jason – that would have been just <em>weird</em> beyond any other issues, and Dick had said Bruce <em>and</em> Jason.</p><p>“Okay,” he said, nodding slowly. “We wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Alfred.”</p><p>Dick nodded with mock sobriety. “Everyone’s scared of Batman, but little do they know that an angry British butler puts him to shame.”</p><p>Tim nodded too, copying the somber tone. “The Batler is truly terrifying.”</p><p>Dick’s jaw dropped, then his grin came back in full force. Jason snorted, and Bruce ran a hand down his face.</p><p>“Dear god, he’s contagious,” Bruce grumbled to himself.</p><p>“B, don’t be such a wet batlanket,” Dick scolded jokingly, prodding Bruce with his elbow.</p><p>Bruce fixed Dick with a muted incredulous stare. “That one wasn’t even a pun.”</p><p>“It wasn’t a very good joke,” Tim agreed, trying to suppress another grin. “It was pretty bat.”</p><p>Bruce groaned and gave Dick a slight shove in the direction of the kitchen. “Go, before you further infect him. Damnit, I have one well behaved child, Dick; don’t you dare screw him up.”</p><p>“I thought I was sort of well behaved,” Dick protested with a hand over his heart and a playful glint in his eye.</p><p>“Santa Monica.”</p><p>The glint faded and Dick shifted uncomfortably. “….Well, Jason isn’t always so bad.”</p><p>“Nevada City.”</p><p>“You said that we weren’t talking about that again.”</p><p>“Only for legal deniability.” Bruce shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Dick, go catch up with Alfred. Tim, Jason, let’s go see the Batcave.”</p><p> </p><p>Dick could smell chocolate chip cookies before he even entered the room, which was never a good sign. Alfred enjoyed a challenge, something with flair or dignity, but when the beta got stressed, it was back to basics. And if <em>Alfred</em> was stressed, the world was probably on fire.</p><p>Dick nudged open the door and looked inside. As he’d suspected, there were at least three dozen chocolate chip cookies cooling on racks on the counter, and Alfred was rolling another sheet’s worth of dough into small balls, a perplexed frown on his face.</p><p>“Is the kid really that bad?” Dick asked from the doorway.</p><p>Alfred looked up, his smile and eyes warm with gentle affection. The frown was gone, but his shoulders were heavy. “Master Dick. It is good to have you home.”</p><p>Dick returned the smile, but it was strained by his worry. He crossed the floor and drew Alfred up into a hug as both a greeting and an attempt to leech away some of his anxiety away. It was an indication of how tired he must have been that Alfred didn’t stiffen like he usually did when Dick hugged him, a stutter as butler mode switched to almost-adoptive grandfather mode. He just wrapped his arms around Dick and held him for several moments.</p><p>Dick put his nose against Alfred’s collar to breathe in his mild beta scent. It was good to be home.</p><p>Dick smiled deeper, but something in his gut churned. Alfred must have been off his game to be stress-baking and easily returning hugs.</p><p>“What did I miss?”</p><p>Alfred huffed slightly and released Dick, taking a moment to smooth the creases in his shirt and collect himself. “Besides your father’s wedding to a child younger than Master Jason, very little.”</p><p>Dick snorted and pulled over one of the bar stools. “Yeah, I figured that out. Was there a ceremony that I just wasn’t invited to or something?”</p><p>“There was no ceremony. What has Master Bruce told you?”</p><p>Dick leaned forward on his elbows, snagging a cookie while he was at it. The answer was <em>not enough</em>, but that wasn’t very helpful. “Well, B got hitched with a – how old is Tim anyway?”</p><p>“He is thirteen,” Alfred supplied, because unlike Bruce, he was actually useful. “Did he say anything else?”</p><p>“He said that Tim’s parents wanted to marry him off to either Bruce or Lex Luthor. Why those were the options, he didn’t explain, but he obviously wasn’t going to let them hand that kid over to Luthor. We’ve <em>seen</em> the bodies.”</p><p>Alfred sighed and nodded, rolling out the last cookie. “Master Tim’s parents are the CEOs of Drake Industries. Around two weeks ago, they proposed a business deal to Master Bruce, adding their own son still in his presentation heat to the deal. Master Bruce refused, but found the boy as Batman the next night running from his arranged marriage with Luthor. The only way to keep the boy safe permanently and immediately was for him to take his parents up on their initial offer.”</p><p>“How long has he been here?” Jason had been with the Titans for just under two weeks, and he hadn’t said anything about Bruce planning a sham marriage with a thirteen-year-old, so it had to have happened after that.</p><p>A timer went off and Alfred pulled on an oven mitt to remove another sheet of cookies from the oven.</p><p>“It was a week ago yesterday.”</p><p>Dick snorted. “B should have told me. I would have picked them up an anniversary present.”</p><p>Alfred set the sheet on a rack and cut Dick a disapproving look. “Master Tim would <em>not</em> have approved. He believes whole heartedly that Master Bruce intends on consummating the marriage.”</p><p>“Did Bruce not tell Tim <em>why</em> he ‘married’ him?” Dick asked incredulously. Except, no, Bruce had just told Dick in front of Tim, so Tim had to know.</p><p>“Master Bruce has been most up front in his intentions to treat Master Tim as his son, but unfortunately, he informed Master Tim of his intentions <em>after</em> Master Tim threatened to reveal Batman’s identity to the world if Master Bruce were to force himself on the boy.”</p><p>Dick couldn’t believe it. He really just couldn’t believe it, except that it was such a <em>Bruce</em> thing to do.</p><p>“You mean that Bruce told the terrified baby omega he basically <em>legally kidnapped</em> that he is Batman <em>before</em> he got to the bit about not wanting to <em>rape</em> the kid?” No <em>wonder</em> he was so scared. <em>Dick</em> would have been scared of that.</p><p>“Master Tim,” Alfred cut in with another disapproving look at Dick, “already knew.”</p><p>Dick froze. “Wh- How?!”</p><p>Alfred shook his head and picked up a spatula to remove the cooling cookies from the cookie sheet. “We are unaware. He’s refused to tell us, and we have not seen fit to press him. Master Bruce believes that Master Tim pieced together his meeting with Batman with Bruce Wayne’s sudden flipped stance on the issue of child marriages, but Master Tim claims that he’s known for years and has proof.”</p><p>Dick nodded, piecing things together. He could see where things had gone wrong, partially due to the kid being scared, and possibly due to Bruce being an absolute <em>idiot</em>.</p><p>“So the kid thinks that he’s blackmailing Bruce into keeping his hands off. Why’s he so scared of me?”</p><p>Alfred’s expression darkened, and the cookie he was lifting broke. “Master Bruce saved Master Tim from being assaulted and kidnapped off the streets when they first met.”</p><p>“So he’s scared of alphas now?” It was an extreme response, but if it had been fairly recent, then Dick supposed that made sense.</p><p>Alfred frowned. “Perhaps, but it is more…nuanced than that. There were two assailants, one alpha and one beta. If that incident were the true cause of Master Tim’s anxiety, then one could expect him to be frightened of betas as well.”</p><p>“And he’s not?”</p><p>Alfred shook his head. “Master Tim trusted me enough to allow me to hug him only minutes after we met. No, he only fears alphas.”</p><p>Dick nibbled contemplatively around the edges of his cookie. “So what’s B’s theory?”</p><p>“Master Tim’s father is an alpha,” Alfred said dryly, and the hair on the back of Dick’s neck stood up on end.</p><p>“His dad…” The fury in his scent rose, and he could tell by Alfred’s expression that the beta agreed.</p><p>“He was willing to sell his son to an alpha whom he had every reason to believe would use his son as nothing more than a sex slave. Although Master Tim has said nothing to directly confirm the theory, he had only presented a few days before he was sold away. It is unlikely that he left his home during that time beside his brief stint as a runaway, meaning that the most likely suspects of any impropriety would be his beta mother and alpha father.”</p><p>“And Tim’s not reassured by B saying that he just wants Tim to be his kid,” Dick realized in growing horror, his scent turning acrid.</p><p>Alfred’s eyes widened minutely. “I don’t believe either of us had made that connection, but that would certainly explain some things. It would also aid to explain why Master Tim is much more at ease with Master Jason.”</p><p>Dick choked on his cookie. He had to take a moment to cough it up before he could breathe. By the time he had recovered, there was a bottle of water sitting on the counter in front of him, and Alfred was watching him in concern.</p><p>“You mean he’s not scared of <em>Jason</em>?”</p><p>Alfred huffed an exasperated sigh. “I cannot claim to understand it. Master Bruce has never even touched Master Tim, but the lad is terrified of him. Master Jason punched him in the face within minutes of meeting him, but Master Tim has practically imprinted on him.”</p><p>“He <em>punched</em> a kid?” Dick’s jaw dropped. He remembered the yellow-green bruise across the bridge of Tim’s nose, but he’d hardly expected <em>Jason</em> to have been the one who put it there.</p><p>Alfred’s moustache twitched downward in one of his most disapproving scowls. “He perceived Master Tim’s threats of blackmail as a threat that would largely harm me, so for that reason, he punched Master Tim hard enough to make his nose bleed. I’m surprised he didn’t break it.”</p><p>Dick whistled. He knew that trauma wasn’t always rational, but the kid honestly trust <em>Jason</em> immediately? If Tim were going to pick any of them to not trust, on paper, Jason was the best candidate. He was young, and still in puberty, with an excess of hormones and less experience controlling them. Dick trusted Jason, of course, and knew that he had self-control, but if any of the alphas in the family were going to get overwhelmed by his instincts, it would likely be Jason just because of his biology. Add to that having actually walloped the kid in the face? What was the kid <em>thinking</em>?</p><p>“Why do you think he’s so chill with Jason?”</p><p>Dick reached for another cookie, but Alfred waved his hand away with a spatula and a look of disapproval.</p><p>“Master Dick, you will ruin your appetite,” Alfred scolded, making Dick feel like a chastised ten-year-old again.</p><p>“I can just eat these <em>for</em> dinner,” Dick joked half-heartedly.</p><p>Alfred gave him a withering look and waggled his spatula threateningly. Dick grabbed another cookie, but he was very fast, so fast that Alfred’s spatula couldn’t reach him.</p><p>“Don’t worry, I’ll eat my vegetables.</p><p>“You’d better,” Alfred told him severely, then softened. “I do not know <em>why</em> Master Tim has latched on so tightly to Master Jason. Perhaps it is loneliness, perhaps it is admiration. He does seem quite enthralled by the magic of Robin, seemingly ignoring Master Jason’s secondary gender nearly entirely.”</p><p>Dick tapped his finger on the counter, tracing the familiar swirls in the marble. “Or maybe his problem isn’t so much with <em>alphas</em> as it is with <em>adult male</em> alphas.”</p><p>Alfred raised an eyebrow, a clear gesture for Dick to elaborate.</p><p>Dick took a moment to collect his thoughts, making sure that the vague notions and ideas swimming around in his head had some sort of basis.</p><p>“If it was his <em>dad</em> that…hurt him. Then it might be that Tim is just scared of anyone who vaguely resembles his father. Not in looks or anything, but in relationship dynamics. B’s been telling the kid that he just wants to be his dad, hasn’t he?”</p><p>Alfred nodded as he lifted another cookie from the sheet. ”Go on."</p><p>“The kid <em>just</em> presented,” Dick continued, laying the facts out like he was working a case with B and not talking about the potential incestuous rape that might have been committed against Dick’s new baby ex-fosterstepmom. Tim probably had no idea what a normal family dynamic is, given that his parents could hardly care much for him if they’d sold him off so quickly. “If B’s right about the kid’s dad, then he’s actively identifying himself with a relationship that is the reason he’s scared.”</p><p>“Should Master Bruce simply stop trying to be the boy’s father?”</p><p>Dick picked up another cookie, and this time Alfred didn’t say anything, but he did sigh pointedly and stick a plate under Dick’s hands when Dick started methodically breaking the cookie into triangles.</p><p>“When I first came here,” Dick started, “I didn’t want a new dad, and Bruce respected that. Maybe Tim needs that too. Bruce can still act as his father until Tim’s ready to call him that, if he ever is.”</p><p>Dick hadn’t <em>exactly</em> been adopted by Bruce. It was a thing that they danced around in their relationship. He’d always wondered if Bruce would treat him differently if he were adopted, but since Jason had come along, Dick could see that no, adoption wasn’t going to change anything. Bruce had always treated Dick like his kid, to the point that he’d eventually failed to notice that Dick <em>wasn’t</em> a kid anymore. Bruce <em>was</em> his dad, and Dick was his son, even if they never used those terms. He was sure that Bruce would treat Tim the same.</p><p>Alfred nodded. “I suppose that that is a good point. But are you sure that it is a <em>father</em> he fears? If Master Bruce is wrong, and he abruptly tells Master Tim that he has no more interest in being his father, then that could do irreparable damage.”</p><p>Dick frowned and stuck one of his cookie triangles in his mouth. “He got scared when I tried to shake his hand, but he was okay with going down with me to the Batcave alone. Would he have done that with Bruce?”</p><p>Alfred raised an eyebrow. “He most certainly would <em>not</em>. Master Tim went into hysterics from just the suggestion that he and Master Bruce might watch a film together a few days after he arrived.”</p><p>Dick’s heart throbbed. That poor kid. Dick just didn’t get it. Someone had looked at that innocent little kid, the same little kid who had melted so sweetly into his arms all those years ago and who had just given Dick the most adorable shy smile ever in the foyer, and decided to hurt him in the worst way a child - <em>anyone</em> - could be hurt. Something in Tim had been broken so much that he couldn’t even recognize innocent gestures anymore. The fact that the prime suspect was the kid’s <em>father</em> just made him want to be sick <em>and</em> track the man down for a good beating in a dark alley.</p><p>“Would he have done that with Jason?”</p><p>“The first thing they did once Master Tim’s nose stopped bleeding was watch a film alone together. Master Tim even felt safe enough to fall asleep on the couch beside him” The parallel was left unspoken, but Dick understood. There was a soft smile on Alfred’s words as he spoke. As much as he was apparently annoyed by Jason’s introduction skills, he looked proud and quite pleased with Jason for the rest. And it was good of Jason, protecting their newest brother even though he was already safe. “Though Master Tim has not initiated any physical contact with Master Jason, they’ve been practically inseparable ever since. I believe that Master Jason is guarding him.”</p><p>“I see…” Dick steepled his fingers and tried to think.</p><p><em>Adult</em> was a definite factor, but he was definitely the most scared of Bruce. Whether that was because of the marriage or the attempted adoption, Dick couldn’t know yet. Even though it seemed helpless at first, clearly Tim was not dogmatic. His trust of Jason was an open door. Tim’s trust of Jason could prove that not all alphas were dangerous, and Dick could prove that not all <em>adult</em> alphas were dangerous, and then maybe Bruce could prove that not all alpha dads were dangerous.</p><p>He still had to test things, though, to make sure that he wasn’t going to make a bigger mess than the mess that was Tim’s trauma. He still had to go talk to the kid and find out what had happened from <em>his</em> perspective .</p><p>Then, realization dawned on him and the solution seemed do obvious that he was shocked he’d missed it in the beginning. “Alfred, I have a plan.”</p><p>Alfred set the spatula down on the counter. "Yes?"</p><p>Dick grinned. "Can you make a couple calls?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My professor had a quiz due *during* fall break, which is so not fair for an online class, and I realized that he might actually have it due <em>ten minutes</em> before the deadline. *dying inside* I want to go back to real people classes. I don't even care if I get covid and <em>die</em>, my grades are awful.<br/>Next thing up is Whumptober four! Nearly done! Then, despite what I said about Coat and Cowl three, I have to write a short story about a male stripper dressed as a cop during a bank robbery, before Sunday, because I'm trying to impress a guy I *grumbles* accidentally contracted a crush on.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Boundaries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm back! Sorry to have disappeared so long! If you read some of the stuff that I've posted in the last couple of weeks, then you'll know that I caught covid and had really awful fatigue/brain fog from that for a month. </p><p>Then, for some reason, I couldn't focus on the details of what I'd written and what I needed to set up long enough to write a chapter fic no matter how hard I tried, even though I could write one shots just fine and did so very impulsively. Also, I had finals and was getting very little sleep. Turns out, those things were connected, and, uh, yeah, that's basically how I found out that I had undiagnosed high-functioning ADHD that gets <em>really</em> bad when I don't have enough sleep, which leads to sleep being harder, which leads to worse symptoms, which devolve into impulsive writing one shots but not enough focus to remember how a long story is meant to progress. Really, my entire life makes sense now. But, finals are over, I have slept, and FINALLY the sensory processing issues have quieted enough that I can actually remember continuity for more than thirty seconds.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tim stuck next to Jason, just is case, as they trailed after Bruce, standing close enough that they were nearly, but not quite, touching. He could smell Jason’s alpha scent, not overpowering or domineering, but confident and strong, and his instincts and ever-frayed nerves were soothed. Even just Jason’s presence would be enough to ward off most attackers—probably not <em>Bruce</em>, but even if Bruce <em>did</em> try to attack him, Tim was pretty sure that Jason would be able to hold him off long enough for Tim to get to Alfred. And Bruce was smart, so he’d know that.</p><p>No, if Bruce <em>was</em> lying and actually wanted Tim to be his mate for real, he’d probably rather groom Tim into believing that <em>he</em> wanted to be Bruce’s mate for real. It would be easier for him to get what he wanted, and his image wouldn’t suffer nearly as much, and if Tim “wanted” to be in Bruce’s bed, then Alfred probably wouldn’t kill him, either. Tim wasn’t going to let him win if that was his goal, but if it <em>wasn’t</em>….</p><p>Tim dug his nails into his palms. No. He could worry about later <em>later</em>. Bruce wouldn’t be dumb enough to go after Tim while Jason was right next to him, and that was all that mattered for the moment. He was about to see <em>the</em> secret headquarters of <em>Batman</em> and <em>Robin</em>. And Nightwing sometimes. He was just going to <em>ignore</em> the fact that Batman was Bruce, and that he’d been Batman when he’d realized that he <em>wanted</em> Tim, and Batman when he’d lifted Tim up in his arms and carried him to the Batmobile, Batman when he’d snaked an arm around Tim’s waist and pulled him flush against his body without Tim even realizing how compromised he’d been in the arms of the one person he’d trusted. He didn’t have to start trusting Bruce and leave himself open until he was sure that Bruce really was nice—if he was—to enjoy himself on what was quite possibly the coolest day of his life. As far as he was concerned, for the next couple of hours, Bruce Wayne and Batman were two entirely different people.</p><p>Bruce led the way…to his study. He opened the door and walked inside, Jason following without question, but Tim’s chest tightened with an edge of panic. His feet turned to lead and he shuffled to a stop just outside the doorway.</p><p>He’d heard what alphas did to omegas—theirs and anyone else’s—in offices. He remembered being a young pup holding his father’s sleeve at a gala as his father laughed with a group of alphas swapping stories about what they’d gotten away with against the omegas on their staff. He’d been little, too little to really understand <em>then</em>, but he understood <em>now</em> well enough that his stomach churned and ghostly fingers brushed his sides at the thought of being boxed in with an alpha in his office.</p><p>Jason stopped about halfway through the room and glanced over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming?”</p><p>Tim bit his lip and leaned against the carved doorframe in hesitation, then glanced at Bruce.</p><p>Bruce had crossed the room and was opening the glass face of the broken grandfather clock against the wall, not paying any attention to Tim. Wasn’t sitting in his desk and calling Tim over. Jason was <em>right</em> there, too, and Tim was the last one in, so he could leave the door open, just in case.</p><p>He couldn’t show Bruce a weakness, not after all the blubbering he’d been doing, even though his feet into the room. Reluctantly, one trembling foot and then the other, Tim edged into the room, but he only managed to get a couple feet before he balked and grabbed the door handle for support. He had to stop, he had to stand up and be normal, but why were they in this room? Tim couldn’t see any entrance, couldn’t see a place to hide one either. The bookshelves were built into the walls, and there were no seems around them that could let them spin. Why would the entrance even be <em>in</em> the study? Downstairs, away from the bedrooms? It made no sense when it would have been more practical to put the entrance in a bedroom or at least <em>closer</em> to one, because the bats got injured all the time, and it would be a <em>pain</em> to drag yourself up the stairs with a freshly broken ankle. If they weren’t there to enter the Batcave, then why were they there if not for…</p><p>“Tim?” Jason was frowning and moving closer, his scent all <em>confused-worried-calm down-protective</em> and strongly tinged with alpha musk. </p><p>Tim stumbled back before he could even process what he was doing, slapping his hand over his mouth and nose to block the pheromones before they could affect him. </p><p>A phantom hand dug into his throat, another trailing down his body and pulling at his clothes, and it was his dad’s scent in his nose, burning even though it wasn’t really there, and his own scent was sharp with fear just like it had been back then, but his dad wasn’t <em>there</em> and Jason wasn’t <em>trying</em> to use his scent to intimidate Tim or put him at ease so he could take advantage of him, so it was <em>stupid</em>, and Tim was stupid, but his heart was pounding wildly in his ears and his head spun with something—pheromones or lack of oxygen, he didn’t know. </p><p>“Jason, stay back,” Bruce said quickly, suddenly staring at Tim intently, like he wanted to take him apart piece by piece. “Tim, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“Don’t touch me!” Tim yelped, his desperation kneecapping any intimidation factor he might have had left to support his blackmail threat, but he couldn’t <em>care</em>. There were alphas, and he was alone, and he wanted his mom to come save him, but she wasn’t <em>there</em>, and even if she <em>were</em> there, she still wouldn’t protect him because this was exactly what she’d sold him to Bruce Wayne for.</p><p>“Jay, stop scenting.” Bruce took a couple of steps forward, and Tim jerked back so fast he misjudged his direction and hit his head on the wall instead of stumbling out the door, but Bruce stopped level with Jason and put a hand on his son’s arm. “Go open the window. You’re scaring him.”</p><p>But Jason wasn’t scaring Tim, because Jason was <em>nice</em>, but he was an alpha, and fear kept him pinned against the wall as his breaths came harsh and ragged, choking on the scent of alpha in the room that had been so much more comforting out in the hall, when his body was listening to him and the walls weren’t penning him in. He’d been lured into a trap, and this was it. Bruce had used Dick’s suggestion to get Tim to follow him blindly to his fate, like a lamb to the slaughter. </p><p>Hot tears burned in his eyes. Was <em>Dick</em> part of this? Was <em>Jason</em>? Had all the kindness from both of them just been a ruse to get him to trust Bruce? </p><p>“Tim-” Jason started, and he looked <em>heartbroken</em>.</p><p>“Jason, please. This isn’t your fault, but he’s scared.” Bruce took his eyes off Tim to look Jason in the eye as he gave his arm a brief squeeze. “Please, open the window. Let’s give him a bit of space for a minute.”</p><p>Jason turned his wide, confused eyes back to Tim, and Tim flinched <em>hard</em>, waiting for him to make his move, and then the alpha was moving…away from Tim. Around the desk, to the row of windows on the far wall. Tim glance fitfully between Jason and Bruce, Bruce watching him carefully as Jason unlatched and opened each of the three windows.</p><p>A slight breeze brushed against Tim’s skin, a warm and gentle caress that slowly dissipated the alpha scent in the room to something far more manageable. </p><p>As the scent came down, so did the edge on Tim’s fear. The walls felt a bit less confining, the impressions of his dad faded, and Tim shuddered deeply as his heart rate lowered. His cheeks heated in embarrassment, and he slumped back against the wall, watching Bruce warily to gauge his reaction to Tim’s utter panic at <em>Jason</em>’s scent. Jason, who had just been trying to comfort Tim. Jason, who was staring at Tim with blatant concern and his hands over his scent glands to keep from setting Tim off again.</p><p>“Are you back with us, Tim?” Bruce tilted his head just slightly, watching Tim calculatingly, and Tim’s throat tightened as a bite of panic creeped back in. </p><p>“I’m fine!” Tim snapped at him, trying to look brave as he balled his fists and did his best to hide the tears. He was so <em>stupid</em>. All Bruce would have to do to overpower him was scent the room up just a <em>bit</em>, and now he <em>knew</em> it. Attempted <em>comfort</em> had just reduced Tim to a helpless, trembling mess over <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>“Good,” Bruce said, holding his hands in a broadcasted gesture of peace. “Do you want to see the cave another day? Dick will understand if you want to stay upstairs or go back to your room.”</p><p>Tears burned in Tim’s eyes at the soft tone. He hated Bruce treating him like a kid, hated how his instincts purred at the gentle attention even as terror curled in his gut. If Bruce was lying, then his kindness was either trying to manipulate Tim or just proof that he didn’t take Tim seriously, and if he was telling the truth, then he was only treating him like that because he thought that Tim was too stupid to be able to handle anything else. He hated being scared all the time, he hated <em>needing</em> to be scared all the time because he couldn’t trust his owner, and he hated that even if he was <em>wrong</em>, then he was still going to make Bruce hate him. He wanted to go have fun with Dick and Jason, but his mind was going haywire on adrenaline and paranoia, and he wanted to go back to his room and hide in a pile of blankets.</p><p>A nest. </p><p>He wanted a nest and utter silence.</p><p>He wanted to have a pack around him to protect him.</p><p>He didn’t <em>know</em> what he wanted.</p><p>“I don’t know,” he whispered, glaring at the pattern in the carpet and blinking rapidly in an attempt to salvage what little dignity he had left. It didn’t work very well, and he had to dab at his eyes with his shirt sleeve.</p><p>“That’s okay, Tim,” Bruce assured him, like Tim needed his <em>permission</em>. “We can wait a few minutes until you know what you want to do. How about you sit down?”</p><p>There was a couch, the uncomfortable decorative type, against one wall underneath the in-wall bookshelves, and Bruce gestured toward it. </p><p>Tim hesitated. He would <em>like</em> to sit down, but even though there was still most the room between Bruce and Tim, it would put Tim <em>closer</em> to the alpha, and it would be harder to run if he had to stand and get to the door instead of just taking a few steps to the side and running down the hall. And he still didn’t even know why they were even in the study. Maybe Bruce just needed his keys or something. God, he was such an idiot.</p><p>His legs wobbled at just the thought of moving, though. It didn’t matter if he was leaning against the wall or sitting on the couch, if Bruce wanted him, he would be able to take him. He may as well be comfortable.</p><p>Tim toed one foot toward the chair, but the second he put weight on it, his muscles felt like melting butter and he had to slump back against the wall to keep from falling.</p><p>“Tim?” Jason was still standing against the opposite wall. He took a small step toward Tim, glancing at Bruce. He wasn’t projecting his scent anymore, but his eyes were worried and caring. “Do you need a hand?”</p><p>Tim bit his lip, then nodded and closed his eyes. Jason could have taken advantage of him if he wanted the first day, but he hadn’t. Tim had just gotten caught off guard by his scent when he was already stressed, and he was such an idiot for freaking out like that.</p><p>Jason’s footsteps sounded quickly across the floor, but slowed a few feet away and came to a complete halt just in front of him. Tim tensed, waiting for Jason’s touch, but it didn’t come.</p><p>“Hey, baby bird. Can you look up here?” Jason asked gently, but it didn’t set him on edge like Bruce did. Robin was always the light to Batman’s darkness, so it felt more natural coming from Jason.</p><p>Tim exhaled deeply and forced himself to look Jason in the eyes. Jason was staring back down at him intensely, but not in the deconstructive way Bruce did. Just careful. Caring. Tim took in another deep breath and let himself relax slightly when he let it out.</p><p>“I’m going to help you over to the couch, okay?”</p><p>Tim knew that, so he nodded his agreement again.</p><p>“Can I touch you?”</p><p>Oh. That was it.</p><p>Tim took a deep, wavering breath. </p><p>Touching. An alpha was going to touch him.</p><p>No, <em>Jason</em> was going to touch him. Jason wasn’t going to hurt him. Jason had even flicked his nose earlier, so it wasn’t even the first time they were touching. Just the first time he’d agreed. </p><p>Still, his heart pounded, and he had to bite his lip when Jason raised his arm. Jason moved very slowly, slow enough that Tim could feel the warmth of his arm against the back of his neck before the muscular arm settled around his shoulders and pulled him off the wall and against Jason’s side to keep him on his feet. His scent, barely noticeable from a distance with the windows opened, was…present. Jason was present. There was an alpha touching him, holding onto him, and Tim wasn’t going to be able to fight if the alpha tried to hurt him. It took everything in him not to flinch, but Jason must have registered his tension because he started to pull back. If Jason pulled back, though, Tim was going to faceplant, and…the fact that he’d <em>thought</em> to pull back set Tim’s mind at ease, a bit, so he grabbed Jason’s hand with his and kept it pinned to his own upper arm. He forced the anxiety and lingering panic out of his scent and let his tentative peace show.</p><p>Tim shot a glance over at Bruce to gauge his reaction. He seemed…pleased. Tim shuddered and turned his face into Jason’s shirt. The material was soft against his cheek, but Jason’s body was hard and sturdy in a way Alfred wasn’t. It was like being hugged by a tree. A tree that could beat up most grown men. A tree that would protect him if Bruce’s pleasure at seeing him trust Jason was because he thought it meant that Tim was going to trust him enough to be groomed.</p><p>Jason took a step forward, and Tim had to yank his eyes away from Bruce’s to watch where he was stepping so he wouldn’t trip over his own feet and drag Jason down on top of him. That sounded painful, and he didn’t want to have to resist Bruce with cracked ribs if it came down to it.</p><p>It felt like an eternity, but it was only seconds before Jason was settling Tim on the stiff fabric of the couch and sitting down beside him. Jason moved his arm from around Tim’s shoulders to the back of the couch, and Tim breathed out a sigh of relief before turning his face against Jason’s shoulder. He hoped that Jason had just moved because he thought Tim might like it, and not because he didn’t want to touch Tim more than he had to, but Jason’s body was so warm and safe, and with his nose pressed into it but his mouth free, Tim didn’t have to smell him. Just until he calmed down a bit more, until his nerves had stopped racing.</p><p>Jason’s arm settled back down around his shoulders and he rested his head against Tim’s, but Tim didn’t fight it. It would make it harder for anyone to try to pull him away, and some basic part of him he hadn’t known about before was very soothed by that thought. </p><p>“You done for the day?” Jason asked after a minute. “I can make you a nest in your room or the library. My mom was an omega, and she—she always liked a nest.”</p><p>Tim hesitated, then shook his head. He didn’t <em>want</em> to go back to his room. Not when Dick had just gotten here.</p><p>“Okay, then. Do you want to go down to see the cave now?” Jason rubbed his hand up and down Tim’s upper arm and Tim flinched and inhaled sharply. That was… “I won’t do that again, Tim. Do you want me to let you go?”</p><p>Tim shook his head, but hid his face in the folds of Jason’s shirt and shrugged his arm a bit and Jason put his arm back up on the back of the couch. Tim had only really wanted him to take his hand off of his arm, but losing the weight of protection on his shoulders was a small price to pay to keep Jason’s hands from feeling like his dad’s, trailing down his body and savoring every inch as he searched for where Tim was most vulnerable.</p><p>“Tim,” Bruce said after a few moments. “Would you like to wait a few minutes before you see the Batcave?”</p><p>Tim didn’t pick up his face to nod his agreement. That…that sounded nice. He just needed a minute or two to put himself back together.</p><p>There was a pause before Bruce asked, “Would it help if I left?”</p><p>Tim paused too. Would Bruce be mad at him if he said yes? He <em>wanted</em> to say yes, but if Bruce decided to punish him, then even if he kept his hands off, he could keep Tim from seeing the Batcave, or lock him in his room and keep him from being able to see Alfred or Jason or Dick, or he could starve Tim into submission. </p><p>Bruce read him like an open book, even though he didn’t say anything. “I’m going to go downstairs, then. Will you be alright alone with Jason?”</p><p>That time, Tim didn’t need to wait to answer. He just nodded, even though he blushed furiously at the reminder of how he’d just freaked out like a baby. </p><p>“Alright. Dick should be along in a few minutes. Take as much time as you need, Tim. I want you to be happy. You’re safe now,” Bruce promised him, and he sounded sincere, but Tim didn’t know if he could really trust him and wasn’t in the mood to think to hard about it. Better safe than sorry.</p><p>Tim heard Bruce’s footsteps retreat farther into the room, and he shifted his face enough to be able to watch the alpha as he walked up to the uncounting grandfather clock and turned the hands until there was a soft, almost inaudible <em>click</em> and the clock shifted forward.</p><p>Because that’s where the door had been the entire time.</p><p>Tim buried his face against Jason again. He was such an <em>idiot</em>. There had been nothing wrong about Bruce taking him to his study after all, Tim was just stupid and had been freaking out because Bruce had put the entrance to his headquarters in a place that didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it did make sense. Actually, it really did, because if Bruce’s cave was underground, like it presumably was, then it probably would have been way easier to add the entrance where the surface was thinnest and there was the least amount of digging to do, even if that meant a longer walk to rest when injured. Or maybe Bruce just kept a cot down there to sleep on if he’d been too hurt and didn’t want to walk. </p><p>There was another click, and when Tim glanced up, Bruce was gone, and the hands on the clock had reset themselves away from where they’d been when Bruce had opened it. </p><p>“You’re okay,” Jason said after several silent moments weighed down between them. “B isn’t going to hurt you, and I wouldn’t let him. You’d make a shitty stepmom, so I’m going to make sure he actually adopts you once all this is over so we can be brothers instead.”</p><p>Tim sniffed and smiled weakly against Jason, trying to ignore the big question of whether Jason was right about Bruce, and unsure of what to say about his promise to defend Tim. “What do you mean, I make a bad stepmom? I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap.”</p><p>Jason scoffed and nudged him playfully. “You couldn’t <em>reach</em>, shorty. Besides, you’re not evil, and stepmoms have to be evil.”</p><p>Tim snorted a laugh and prodded Jason’s ribs with the top of his head. “I could use a stepstool. There’s a reason we’re called <em>step</em>moms, and I think you’re underestimating me. I could be an axe murderer, and you wouldn’t even know.”</p><p>“I am quaking in my scaly panties, shrimp.” </p><p>Tim could practically <em>feel</em> Jason rolling his eyes, and he smiled wider. And there, sitting in an office, pressed bodily against an alpha, just the two of them, he felt protected and happy in a way he hadn’t felt many times in his life. He nuzzled down farther into the hold and took Jason’s hand in his so he could pull it back down around him and keep it still.</p><p>He really hoped Jason was right about Bruce. <em>Brothers</em> sounded really nice.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Since I'm on winter break, I'm really hoping to be able to get at least up to three posts a week, more if possible. I have to finish whumptober, which I will NOT give up on, and then I kind of promised sequels to every one shot I've ever published except for Pieces, so I have to get on those, and I want to update my chapter fics a lot more too. My "to do" fic list is literally nearly 25,000 words and, it's been a bit since I counted, but probably ~150-175 fics long, most one shots (which y'all will probably ask me to continue, and...I'm weak) and I want to get through at least thirty by the time school starts again.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Darkness and Misery, Just What the Doctor Ordered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shorter chapter, but Bruce's POV! I have a bunch of fics half-finished, all of which should be up in the next couple of days, including a second chapter for Beat Him to It (which would be done but it made itself longer + I forgot to bring my fatigue meds and couldn't think very complicatedly, like remembering continuity, this afternoon). Merry Christmas!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce trudged down the stairs and dropped into his chair at the Batcomputer with a weary sigh.</p><p>He knew that it wasn’t Tim’s fault, that whatever trauma made him so terrified of adult alphas had been caused by someone who’d betrayed his trust in the most horrible way—his own <em>father</em> more likely than anyone else—but that wasn’t helping his stress headache at all. He couldn’t help but think, again and again, what would have happened if he’d just spoken first on the day Jack Drake had dropped him off.</p><p>When he’d first realized that the scared little boy so enthralled by the Batmobile and Batman and who desperately needed a safe home was the same little boy who the Drakes had tried to sell to him, he knew he had to take him in. He couldn’t let lex Luthor or anyone else take the boy, and there was something about Tim...there was something, a spark between them that separated Tim from all the other scared kids he helped. Something that was what took Tim from being a boy who needed help to <em>his</em> boy. He’d been frightened of Bruce even then, but he’d quickly calmed down, quickly trusted Batman, so Bruce had expected Tim to quickly trust Bruce Wayne as well as soon as he knew they were one and the same.</p><p>According to Tim, though, he’d already known that <em>for years</em> and could prove it as well. Bruce suspected that that was a bluff, but there was still the possibility that he was telling the truth. Bruce normally wouldn’t worry even if Tim <em>were</em> telling the truth because he would never touch Tim or any other child like that, but Tim was so easily terrified that Bruce was starting to worry that he was going to sneeze wrong and Tim was going to report him to the police.</p><p>Still, even as he tried to need the stress out of his forehead with the heels of his hand, he wouldn’t give Tim up for the world. That spark hadn’t gone out, not for him. Tim was a precious little boy who liked books and Jason and hugs from Alfred and who alternated between seeming so much older and so much younger than he was, and his eyes lit up when he talked about something that excited him, even though Bruce rarely got to see him less than suspicious. Even in his terror, Tim was a fighter, threatening and snapping and trying to run. Someday, his newest son would trust him and his intentions, even if that took months or years. For both their sakes, he thought with a certain amount of foreboding and dread, he hoped that it wouldn’t take nearly that long.</p><p>With another sigh, Bruce lowered his hand, opened his file on Tim, and typed in a few new entries:</p><ul>
<li><em>Osmophobia – intensely frightened by even Jason’s alpha scent when already frightened. </em></li>
</ul><p>Bruce thought for a second and remembered before, in the kitchen after Jason had punched Tim, he had tried to show Tim with his scent that he was safe and cared for, and Tim had been upset with him for that. At the time, Bruce had merely assumed that that was simply because he disliked Bruce’s presence in any form, but in light of recent information, he added to the entry:</p><ul>
<li><em>Osmophobia – intensely frightened by even Jason’s alpha scent when already frightened. Seemingly upset by any scent meant to influence his emotions.</em></li>
</ul><p>But he hadn’t been upset by Dick’s scent in the foyer. Bruce considered the encounter for a moment, then nodded absently. Dick hadn’t tried to influence Tim’s emotions, only showed Tim his own. That fit soundly with his hypothesis, but he’d have to warn Dick before he could scare Tim.</p><p>Underneath osmophobia, Bruce add:</p><ul>
<li><em>Probable claustrophobia – be aware of surroundings to avoid cornering him.</em></li>
</ul><p>Was there anything else? The list, as ever, felt too short. He hated missing information, hated walking blind into a minefield of trauma that left Tim a miserable, shaking mess upstairs in his study.</p><p>Bruce tapped a finger against the desk. He’d cornered Tim—legitimately cornered him, unlike today when he had been standing right next to the door—in the library, and he’d been startled and frightened, but also defensive and snappy, not terrified and frozen. Something had been different for Tim this time, beyond just claustrophobia.</p><p>What was it?</p><p>Jason’s presence had initially been calming to Tim, judging by the peeks he’d sneaked as they walked down the hall. Tim had imprinted on Jason like a duckling since they’d met and had been walking right next to him, nearly touching despite his fear of alphas. It was sweet even though Bruce couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. Tim had also apparently trusted Dick, who was going to be following them after a few minutes. Surely even Tim would know that Bruce would not have the <em>time</em> or opportunity harm him with the situation as it was, surely he knew that his brothers would protect him, but once they had entered the study, Jason had been deemed a threat. Once Jason had tried to coax Tim into the study.</p><p>The study…</p><p>Bruce hesitated, then typed in:</p><ul>
<li><em>Possible negative connotations with offices – check HR complaints against Jack Drake.</em></li>
</ul><p>Bruce knew that offices could be centers of abuse, but he would expect that from an abuse victim harmed in a corporate setting, not at home, where any abuse likely occurred. He knew that some alphas relished and bragged about abuse they inflicted on innocent omegas on their staff, though, and if Jack was willing to abuse his own son, Bruce had no doubt that he’d abused other omegas, and Tim may have known or suspected, thus forming a fear of being in an office with an alpha. He had no concrete evidence, but that would explain things. Tim was scared of offices and hadn’t known that the entrance to the cave was in the clock, so he’d simply thought that Bruce had brought him into his office and he’d reacted how he felt was appropriate.</p><p>God, he must have been so terrified.</p><p>Bruce sighed and buried his face in his hands.<em> Communication,</em> Dick was always telling him. And Bruce tried, he really did, but he hadn’t expected Tim to be frightened of <em>offices</em> of all things.</p><p>Bruce gave himself another few moment of darkness and self-loathing before he saved his changes and closed the file. He didn’t need to see Tim’s reaction to Bruce recording his fears and weaknesses to know that it would cause <em>another</em> meltdown, and Bruce wanted Tim to be happy, especially today when he’d been so excited about getting to see the cave.</p><p>Bruce’s mouth twitched into a slight smile. Tim, when he loved something, was absolutely adorable. His eyes went wide and sparkled, his mouth came just slowly opened, and his eyebrows looked like they were trying to escape. He was going to <em>love</em> the cave.</p><p>Bruce typed in a few commands, diverting the security cameras to watch the entrance so he could be sure to capture the moment, then turned his chair and looked up to the top of the stairs to wait for his boys.</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short chapter!</p><p>Okay, so, long break. Sorry about that. This is actually my first fanfic, <em>ever</em>, though I've been writing since I was a little kid, but that meant that I didn't know going in that school takes 60% brain power and chapters take 60% brain power (because there's so much more to keep track of). One shots, on the other hand, take like 20% brain power and are great for stress relief. That being said, I <em>am</em> working on all my chapter fics, just...slowly.</p><p>Also I kind of got stuck on this because I deviated from my outline a tiny bit and had to change some stuff, but I didn't like changing stuff, but say la vee--I know how that's spelled; I just hate French. Hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick stretched his arms absently as he walked down the hall, trying to figure out the finer details of his plan.</p><p>The thing was, Tim <em>couldn’t</em> tell anyone that Bruce was Batman. It wasn’t just self-preservation talking, but they <em>couldn’t </em>let Tim tell anyone the secret.</p><p>Gotham <em>needed</em> Batman, and Robin too, just like the Titans needed Nightwing. Without Batman, there was just endless corruption in a police force that was just as likely to take a cut as they were to make an arrest. Without Batman, <em>hundreds</em> of people would be dead, and that wasn’t even counting thwarted mob attacks and stopping the Rogues.</p><p>Batman wasn’t just a Gotham thing, either. Bruce, and Dick, and even Jason, had played major roles in saving the world on multiple occasions with the Justice League. The League couldn’t <em>function</em> without Batman there as their training wheels.</p><p>It was more than even Batman, it was Bruce Wayne too.</p><p>Bruce <em>had </em>contingencies in case his identity was compromised, but from an early age, he had always impressed on Dick the fact that their identities being secret not only protected them, but everyone around them, and he didn’t mean just Alfred. Wayne Enterprises had buildings and charities <em>everywhere </em>in the city, and all it would take was one bomb, one gas attack, one shootout from someone who’d learned who Batman was and wanted revenge, and dozens to <em>hundreds</em> of innocent people to be killed.</p><p>It wasn’t as simple as <em>holy rusted metal, don’t rape kids, Batman! </em>though.</p><p>Of course <em>Dick </em>knew that Bruce would never touch Tim even if he <em>was </em>consenting, so it wasn’t like Tim would ever <em>need </em>to play his trump card. The problem was that <em>Tim </em>didn’t believe that. From what Dick had seen himself and heard from Alfred, Tim misinterpreted things through a lens of trauma. That made him volatile and dangerous to the whole city.</p><p>There were two ways Tim going to the newspapers could go.</p><p>Option one, and technically the better one, Tim didn’t have any evidence beyond what he’d pieced together and Bruce’s unrecorded confession. He’d be laughed out of the office, maybe an opinion piece would be written on the possibility, but Bruce would be called and Tim would be handed back to him like a lost puppy. The thought of tiny little Tim trying to get someone to listen to him, to protect him, but feeling like no one would…even though Dick knew that Tim wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want Tim to ever be in a situation where he could feel that helpless.</p><p>Option two, Tim had proof that they were the bats, and they would have to flee Gotham, heading straight to the Watchtower, where they’d all undergo plastic surgery before relocating to someplace new. Beyond all the other problems raised with that scenario, there was the obvious flaw of <em>what happens to Tim?</em> Would Tim be sent back to the parents who had sold him in the first place, only to be sold off again to someone who <em>didn’t </em>have a problem raping pups? Or would he be placed in some omega foster home, which would achieve essentially the same ending? Would they manage to bring Tim with them in their escape? A terrified, traumatized little pup who was so scared that Bruce would rape him and none of them would stop him that he went to the public in the first place? Tim would be safest with them, but could they <em>do that </em>to him?</p><p>At the same time, they couldn’t search him or his room to try to find whatever evidence he might have so they could seize it and keep him from endangering them all. There was no telling what Tim would do if that happened, but they’d never manage to win his trust that way.</p><p>So the only way forward was to prove to Tim that he was safe, but they had to move fast, even if that meant a bit of pushing, before Tim had the chance to misinterpret anything <em>that</em> badly. Tim trusted Jason even though Jason was an alpha, and he had at least moderate trust for Dick. Dick could work with that.</p><p>Dick didn’t know exactly why he was walking so fast. It wasn’t like Bruce could have messed up in the—</p><p>The scent of a terrified omega pup slammed into him just outside Bruce’s office like he’d been slapped in the face with a brick.</p><p>He’d been gone <em>five minutes</em>!</p>
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